Disconnected
by Workparty
Summary: A freak lab accident leaves Danny Fenton reeling, just days before beginning high school. How can he pick up the pieces when he barely knows left from right? (Sequel now in progress; look for "Amity Park After Dark")
1. Prologue

Danny Fenton was lying on his back, only dimly aware that something about the situation was not right. _"Let's_ _think here_ _... This isn't a bed, so we probably aren't waking up. Something hurts; did you fall?"_

He turned his head to the side and groggily opened his eyes. He was indeed lying on a floor.

 _"OK, we probably fell then. Did you slip on the climbing rope in gym class again? Check if you're wearing shorts and a t-shirt."_

He looked down his prone frame. He was definitely not in gym class. It was much worse than that.

 _"Well, we're in the Fentonworks lab. You're wearing a white hazmat suit. Everything hurts, and we're just regaining consciousness. This does not bode well."_

"Danny!" The voices shouting in unison did more to wake him up than his idle musings. Two people came running up to him. They seemed concerned about something

"There you are! Dang, are you OK dude? You must have been launched a clear 50 feet!" said one person. He looked like a male.

"To be clear, when I suggested you take a look inside, there was no implied 'Hey, maybe turn it on and get shot out like a human cannonball!'" said the other. She seemed female.

Danny's head was still swimming. The things they were talking about seemed familiar, but the best he could manage was "Wh... Who are you?"

"...you're not serious, are you?" The female was definitely concerned.

 _"Come on, that's Sam Manson. You know her. The guy is Tucker Foley. You remember them. They've been your best friends since forever. Now say something normal before they totally freak out."_

Danny gave his head a shake, then winced. _"OK, ouch. The head is on the list of things that are hurting."_ He cleared his throat before continuing. "Whoa, sorry about that guys. Guess I got knocked around a bit, huh?"

Something like relief washed over his friends' faces.

"Geez Danny, you had me worried there for a second." Tucker held out a hand to help his friend up. He stumbled a bit on the ascent. _"You've got two legs, Fenton, use 'em both..."_

His head was still pounding, but when his eyes came into focus, he was looking straight over Tucker's shoulder, jaw slack. Sam noticed his gaze and smiled. "Whatever you did, it worked. You maniac."

* * *

Sam, Danny, and Tucker stood before the ghost portal. Where there had previously been an empty hole in the wall, there was now a barrier of green, swirling energy; what, if anything, lay beyond it was hidden from their view by the cloud-like vortex.

Tucker spoke softly, as if afraid of being overheard. "Do you guys think it really leads to another dimension? I mean, some kind of ghost world?"

 _"Well, if the last two months worth of frantic parental enthusiasm is any indication, that's probably a yes on both counts."_ Danny grinned at the thought. It was all his parents had been talking about all summer, and since Jazz had made her lack of interest in all things ghost-related very clear, Danny had borne the brunt of it. "My parents seemed pretty sure, and believe me, they went over their blueprints with me in detail. Great, agonizing detail." Which was not to say he had really minded so much. The notion of exploring the supernatural realm had a certain... Allure.

He was trying to recall exactly how somebody was supposed to go through the portal when he got a light punch on his left shoulder. _"Oh man, what was Sam saying?"_ Danny turned to face her with some surprise. "Sorry, what was that?"

She frowned. "Well, I _was_ saying that it 'looks pretty deadly, it looks like you got off lucky', but now I'm starting to wonder if your hearing's been affected."

He tensed up as he heard footsteps thundering down the steps. "Yeah, and what if I told you I heard trouble coming?"

"DANNY BOY!" He suddenly found himself grabbed by the shoulders in his father's characteristic death grip. _"Shoulders... Also still hurting... Ugh."_ Jack didn't seem to notice his son's discomfort. "You got the portal working! Great work kiddo."

Where his father had bounded down with the excitement of a small child on Christmas, his mother practically _flew_. She stopped next to the teen long enough to crush him with a hug, parental treacle briefly overruling her excitement. "Aw, Danny! Good work honey!"

"Maddie, he's a regular Thomas Edison! Always finding new ways to not build a light bulb, just like his old man!"

 _"You know this means you're only going to hear more about ghosts from now on, right?"_

Danny shuddered at the thought. "Hey, guys, I was actually just leaving—"

However, like a squall, his parents had already disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. They were by the portal, taking readings and fiddling with equipment.

"...OK then. Let's get out of here guys, we can check out the ghost world some other time. Before my parents manage to make it boring."

Sam smirked. "What, you aren't up for a little 90-minute lesson in metaphysics?"

"Well, since you ask," he began with a smirk.

* * *

"I'd much rather enjoy a good burger on our second-last day of freedom," Danny concluded, before munching on a fry happily. The three friends were at their usual table in the Nasty Burger, and, as usual, Tucker had already knocked back three double cheeseburgers in the time it took the other two to get halfway through their orders.

Sam just looked at him. It seemed like she wanted to say something, rapidly chewing her last bite of tofu melt. Tucker lowered the straw from his mouth to reply immediately. "What're you talking about?"

"Well, the first day of school is Wednesday, right?"

Sam knocked back a gulp of water before weighing in. "I think he means, you'd rather do this than what?"

Danny grinned. "You just asked me if I was up for a lecture in metaphysics. Did you want to stick around for that? 'cause I didn't think you were the 'sit and listen to authority' type, Sam."

"Uh, Danny? I asked you that back at your place."

The grin faded. "Oh, uh." They were in the Nasty Burger. Well, obviously they were in the Nasty Burger. But how did they get here so quickly?

"...like half an hour ago, dude."

 _"Wow, you must have really spaced out on the walk over here."_

The smile was back in a second. He probably shouldn't mention that he totally hadn't been paying attention to them for so long. "Yeah, I know that. Are you saying you aren't willing to wait a few minutes for comedic genius?"

Tucker seemed relieved, joking right back. "I don't think 'comedic genius' is what you call it when you come up with lines like 30 minutes later dude. You're gonna have to work on that response time."

Sam didn't seem quite so convinced.

* * *

They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the town, trying to take in the last few moments of summer freedom. If his friends thought he seemed preoccupied, they didn't mention it again. For Danny's part, he was mostly just trying to deal with the slowly developing aches and pains all over his body. He was definitely going to have some bruises.

But that was tomorrow's problem. Clambering into bed, he resolved to take it easy for a while; wandering all over town while injured probably hadn't been the smartest plan. He was hurting almost as much now as when he had just been thrown across a room. He laid his tired head on the pillow; for now, at least he could sleep through it.

 _"It's a shame, really. This might be your last night without homework for the year."_

Danny's eyes snapped open. Wait. What had just said that?

The voice replied. _"Now that's the million-dollar question, isn't it?"_

* * *

Author's Note:

 _Well. This was unexpected. Originally, I had not intended to write multiple fanfictions involving Danny Phantom, let alone one that recasts the origin story. And yet here we are._

 _What can be said? I had a plot bunny pop up while writing "Spaceman" that refused to leave until I had written a plot summary and the first few thousand words. Feedback very welcome. Although I suspect that, as is apparently my mode of operation, Chapter Two will follow closely behind this one. ;)_


	2. Chapter 1

_"Are you sure you want to have this conversation now? It's past midnight, you know."_

That was it. He'd officially gone crazy. Jazz had been right all along. His parents had screwed him up, he was going to need to get therapy, maybe he'd need to go to the loony bin. It was probably schizophrenia. Or maybe the last day had been imaginary and he was in a coma from the lab accident? Oh god, he wasn't bleeding out on the floor, was he?!

 _"Yeesh, quiet down will you? You're going too fast for me to catch half of what you're thinking."_

Oh great, his hallucinations could read his mind. That made sense, in a way.

 _"You're half right. Or... Well, actually, you're not right at all. But let's address your first concern. No, you're not dreaming. Or crazy. Or dreaming and crazy. I mean honestly, wouldn't it have seemed crazier if you hadn't noticed me? Even if it took you like 11 hours you got there in the end, champ. Yay, sanity! Right?"_

The teenager was having some trouble keeping up with the voice's rambling in his sleep-deprived state. Apparently sensing this, it drew to a conclusion. _"Anyway, I might be able to read your mind, but don't worry. I'm very real."_

Danny had to pick an emotion, and he latched onto "annoyed". He whispered under his breath, "That's exactly what a hallucination would say."

 _"That is just_ so you _. Will you cut it out with the hallucination stuff? It's actually kind of hurtful."_ His own thoughts sounded annoyed right back; one of his hands was balled up in a fist. As the voice softened, he relaxed it. _"Look. We kind of got off on the wrong foot here. Can we start over?"_

Letting out a breath Danny hadn't realized he was holding, he sat up in bed and tried to relax before continuing at a low whisper. "OK. Let's say I believe you."

 _"I already know you really don't. You still expect to wake up any second now."_

Danny bristled and snapped back at a somewhat louder volume than he had intended. "You know, it would be easier to accept that the voice in my head isn't a hallucination if you would stop acting like one."

 _"OK, touche. I'll pretend I actually need to listen to your mouth-words. Please continue speaking, I am so genuinely interested to hear what you have to say."_

He fired back, "Well, I already know you really aren't!" A pause. A silent pause. He continued at a lower volume. "As I was saying, let's say I believe you." He felt the prompt to continue, "And it's just a coincidence that in the middle of the night after I got hit in the head, I now have a totally real, non-dreamed, non-hallucinatory disembodied voice that seems to be sharing my head."

A beat.

 _"That's about the long and short of it, yeah. Any questions?"_

Danny just groaned and held a pillow over his head. He would just go to sleep, and when he woke up for real, it would be Monday again.

* * *

 **Part I: What is Left**

The morning sunlight played across Danny's face as the teen groggily blinked away the last vestiges of sleep. Aside from the dawn chorus of birdsong and morning traffic, he only heard blessed silence.

 _"Good moooooorning starshine, the Earth says hellooooo! You twinkle above us, we twinkle beloooow..."_

Danny sighed and rolled over, face down on the mattress, apparently unconcerned with air for the moment. As best he could, he thought at the voice, 'What the hell has got you so sunny this morning?'

 _"Just my continued existence. Not going to lie, I was starting to worry I_ might _fade away over night! But hey, looks like we're stuck with each other. Just, you know... Don't start drinking on the roof and shoving desks out of windows or anything weird like that."_

'...what?'

 _"Look, never mind. Don't you have somewhere to be in 30 minutes?"_

It was true. He had already told Tucker and Sam he would meet them to pick up school supplies before Sam specified the unimaginable hour of 8:30 am. _"She has a point you know, you're going to have to get used to mornings again. Hey, maybe you could even join her on her morning jogs!"_

"Nobody asked you..." came the grumbled reply. A moment later, Danny was standing under a hot stream of water. He spent a few moments working the kinks out of his sore muscles, before sighing and just leaning against the wall. It was going to be a rough shopping trip if the store was as packed as he thought it would be.

 _"We did get pretty banged up yesterday, didn't we?"_

With a yelp, Danny jumped, and nearly slipped, just barely catching the curtain rod to steady himself. The voice chuckled. _"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."_ It had a warm laugh. Friendly, almost. And somehow familiar.

'You could do a lot better. Maybe by just not talking at all.'

The voice felt frustrated again. _"The first chance we've had to chat in who-knows-how-long and all you can think about is me shutting up. I honestly don't know why I'm surprised, I had just hoped..."_ Hesitation. That was a new one, it seemed like the voice was actually withholding words and feelings.

'You had hoped what, that I would be overjoyed to talk to a voice in my head? I don't know who or what the hell you are." The sense of hesitation faded, replaced by empty silence.

In a few moments, Danny was dressed and in the kitchen. Since his parents weren't around, he poured himself a cup of coffee while waiting for the toaster.

He nearly choked on the bitter liquid when the long-silent voice spoke up again. _"Do you think bread is_ _really_ _just raw toast?"_

'You have seriously got to stop doing that.'

 _"Doing what?"_

'I dunno, ignoring my questions, and then spooking me like ten minutes later with some random thought.'

He practically felt the scoff. _"_ _Sorry for trying to keep the conversation going. As for the questions..._ _Well, maybe I've decided you aren't quite ready for the answers, smart guy."_

Danny just rolled his eyes and finished his coffee. They still hadn't spoken a minute later when the toast popped; he grabbed it and headed for the door.

 _"And who the hell eats dry toast anyway?"_

"You're doing it again."

"Hmm, sorry?"

"I said, you're doing it again. Ground Control to Major Danny, can you hear me?" Sam quipped.

Danny realized he was now standing next to her outside the Stationary Hut. A quick check of his watch showed it was 8:27; good, they were probably just meeting. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little resentful toward his new acquaintance for letting him space out again.

 _"I'm sorry, I didn't think you wanted me to talk?"_

'Just... Warn a guy next time, OK?' He lowered his wrist and looked sleepily at his friend. "At this hour you really should be glad I'm even mobile. Who gets up before 10 o'clock in the summer anyways?"

"Uh... I do, Danny. Every day. At 7:00. So I take it Tucker isn't here yet?"

"I wouldn't count on him making it on time. Last I talked to him he mentioned something about trying to get by the Three Guardians level in Doomed." He grinned, "So basically, he was probably still up until just before you went for that morning run."

She laughed a bit and returned the smile. "Ha, yeah. So you know I go for jogs in the morning...?"

"Well, yeah, you've invited me to join you a couple times."

 _"Mmm. I don't think that was what she was looking for."_

Before Danny could question the thought, Sam replied, "Oh. Yeah, I guess I did."

After that they were silent. And then the silence stretched on.

 _"You know, your social skills could really use some work. You're kind of a dork."_

Mentally, Danny sputtered. 'Wha... How... Can you even lecture me on social skills, when you're a voice in my head?'

He felt the shrug. _"I just call 'em like I see 'em, champ. She definitely wanted you to offer to join her tomorrow."_

'If she did, she would have said that.'

 _"Now y'see, this is what I'm talking about."_

His train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of a heavily winded Tucker, surprisingly on time. He was unclipping a helmet and straightening his beret.

"Hey Tuck, I didn't think you'd be here this early. Weren't you pulling some kind of crazy all-night Doomed marathon?"

"It's not called 'crazy' Danny, it's called 'persistence'," Tucker corrected, "but yeah I ended up awake until like 5 am. And 3 hours of sleep did _not_ prepare me for that scooter trip here." As if to make his point, he leaned back against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

Sam just looked smug. "Maybe you should take up jogging. Or just ditch the meat-only diet."

"Or get a powered scooter." Danny spoke quickly, hoping to defuse the argument before it began, "You never know when you'll need to get somewhere in a hurry."

"Don't get me wrong, I'd love to, but if I'm making any impulse purchases today it's gonna be that new PDA, with the color screen and 420 MHz processor." He had that slightly mad look in his eye reserved only for technology and cheeseburgers. "Rumor has it Stationary Hut is the only place carrying them during launch week. Have I told you about the new set of features yet?"

As the trio entered the store, Sam and Danny exchanged a glance and a small smile. They had been told about the new features once or twice already, but they both knew that wasn't going to stop him this time.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _Hello again. o/ The second chapter, as promised. Although in a sense, some of this was still what I considered the preface, and the rest is what I would call "Chapter 1". Such is life._

 _To close. I noted the first reader this story had yesterday was in Britain. I do not know who you are, mia amiko, but if you are reading Danny Phantom fanfiction at 5 am local time, you must have your priorities straight._


	3. Chapter 2

The shopping list was refreshingly straightforward. For the most part, Danny was pretty sure he could make do with what had survived the eighth grade. He only needed pens, a few notebooks, some charcoal pencils, and a sketchbook.

 _"I guess you forgot, but you'll also need a new geometry set. The protractor and compass in your old one got broken on track and field day in May, remember? When Dash 'accidentally' hit your backpack warming up for shot put."_

'Right. Thanks.'

And one geometry set. Still, easy enough; which was fortunate, because the store was currently packed with what Danny assumed must have been the entire high school population of Amity Park. Somehow, Tucker had already managed to squeeze past the crowd to get to the electronics department, leaving the other two to their own devices.

"How does he even do that?" Danny knew Tuck could be pretty agile when he put his mind to it, but this was impressive. "It looks like half the town left their shopping to the last minute this year."

"Danny, _we_ left our shopping until the last minute."

"Well, yeah, but we're 14. Shouldn't the 17-year-olds know better or something?"

Sam just rolled her eyes, but there was a trace of a smile on her lips. "Come on you dork, let's get in there before they sell out of black pens."

The pair waded into the throng, baskets at their side. They made their way through pens, pencils, paper, binders, and backpacks before finally, Danny was standing in front of the coiled notebooks. This was the tricky part. As with last year, he stood in front of the shelf, weighing the merits of the ones with blue covers, versus the ones with the slightly lighter blue covers. On one hand, the blue notebooks were his usual choice and he hadn't regretted it yet. On the other hand...

On an impulse, he just grabbed a handful in green. Maybe after four consecutive years of buying blue notebooks, it was time for a change. That's what high school was all about, right? For a moment he wondered if he should get green pens as well, although that might be a step too far. Blue was still the best color, anyway.

 _"Well, agree to disagree on that one I guess."_

'Hmm?'

 _"Not to sound like Sam here, but c'mon,_ everybody _likes blue. It's like the Times New Roman of colors. Green is a way better choice any day."_

Scowling, Danny placed half of the green notebooks back on the shelf and replaced them with blue ones.

 _"...very mature."_

'It makes perfect sense! It'll be easier to tell them apart this way.'

 _"Hey man, however you want to rationalize it."_

* * *

He met up with Sam in the art supplies aisle. She was in the middle of looking at painting supplies when she looked at his shopping basket in mock alarm.

"Whoa, Danny, _green_ notebooks? Were you not able to reserve the blue ones this year?"

The voice in his head snickered.

"Ha ha, very funny." He was frowning as he walked over to her. She just grinned and elbowed his side.

"Come on, I'm trying to say I'm proud of you! Stepping outside that narrow little comfort zone of yours is healthy." She saw him open his mouth to respond, before continuing. "Yes, you really are that predictable. Now, I could use a second opinion here; do you think this drawing set is overkill? I mean, I could _probably_ use the extra blending stumps, but it might be a bit cheaper to just buy them separately..."

Danny had been friends with Sam long enough to know when she was asking for his opinion, and when she just needed to explain it out loud until the correct choice was obvious to her. This was definitely the latter, so he just let his mind wander for a moment. As soon as it did, Danny nearly doubled over as he felt a sudden stabbing pain in his stomach, accompanied by the urge to vomit. There's no way that was normal, not for an injury he sustained the previous day. Maybe it was time to start asking some questions. 'Hey, can I ask you something?'

 _"No."_

'You uh. Don't know what's up with all these aches and pains, do you?'

 _"What was the point of asking if you could ask a question if you were just going to ask it anyway? And furthermore, what in the hell kind of question is that?"_

'I was just being polite. Now answer the question, will you?'

 _"Hmph. Well for your information, no, I don't know. Do I look like a doctor to you?"_ The voice seemed to quickly realize the problem with its phrasing. _"...don't answer that. Seriously, why are you asking?"_

'I dunno, I've been feeling kind of weird since yesterday. I wanted to know if... You know. If my mind _is_ messed up, or if this is really something I should be more worried about.'

 _"To be clear, if you_ were _crazy, that still qualifies as something to be 'worried about'. But you aren't crazy, remember? We went over this maybe seven hours ago. In great detail."_

Danny was just silent at that. The voice could practically feel the new, more invasive questions forming in the teen's mind, so with a sigh, it continued. _"Look, you got thrown across a room. You don't just dust yourself off and get away from that without some bruising. And if you're feeling queasy I'd suggest you lay off the black coffee and plain toast in the mornings."_

'You'll have to forgive me for being a bit suspicious. I mean, a voice appears in my head, I keep getting these random pains... The timing is odd, is all.'

 _"Oh, look alive champ, Sam is winding down. Shame we can't continue this fascinating conversation."_ Danny felt as though he had been forcibly thrust out of his reverie, picking back up on the world around him as Sam was indeed finishing her line of reasoning.

"...I suppose it would make more sense to take these blending stumps, use my normal pencil sharpener, and just get the 6-pack of charcoal sticks. Thanks, Danny." She tossed the items into her basket.

"Hey, no problem." He grabbed the same items off the shelf and threw them into his basket, which was heavier than he had remembered.

Sam noticed, too. "Oh, I didn't know you were into watercolors. Or are you trying to pick up a new hobby to impress high school girls?"

Danny looked. Besides the sketchbook and drawing supplies he had come here for, he had also selected, apparently, a rather elaborate painting kit and fancy paper. '...you know, when we get home, you and I are going to have to have a very serious conversation about what you do with my body when I'm not paying attention.'

He bit back a frown at the voice's laughter and put on his best look of innocence. "I'm shocked Sam! Didn't you know I had a secret, artistic soul locked away?"

"Sure, and I'm a fairy-tale princess." They all laughed at that.

* * *

Sam and Danny didn't find Tucker until they arrived at the checkouts. He looked a bit put out, although he brightened slightly when he saw his friends approach. At their questioning looks, he said simply, "Sold out. Apparently, the preorders cleared out their entire stock. And from the looks of the waiting list, I may just need to hold out for the next model. Still, I got all the school stuff I needed. How'd you two make out?"

"Whoa, what? We didn't—" Danny had turned beet red.

"No! What makes you think—" Sam's blush was a bit paler but just as noticeable.

"—what, you guys didn't even pick out school supplies? What's all this stuff then?" Tucker gestured to their shopping baskets, before freezing over Danny's. "Uh, hey, Danny? You know they _do_ have more of the blue notebooks here, right?" He pulled out one of his own for emphasis.

"Damnit Tuck, I am _not predictable!_ " He flung his hands into the air as if to reinforce his point, in the process hitting the person standing next to him in the face with his shopping basket.

 _"Man, am I going to have to teach you spatial awareness too, or... Oh, shit."_

'What?!'

Danny recognized just then exactly who he had hit. The face that was now glowering at him, sending the color draining out of his own. _"That would be Dash Baxter."_

He was lifted up by the front of his shirt until he was face-to-face with the jock. "Big mistake, Fenton." Actual last name invoked. This was bad. "It's a shame you're gonna be missing the first day of school. I'll see you outside." The words were not an idle threat. Just as quickly, Danny was dropped and Dash stormed out of the building.

At the moment, it felt like all the muscles in his body had decided to stop working at once. He probably would have collapsed without two pairs of arms holding him up. "Well, it was nice knowing you guys. I'm officially dead."

 _"Don't worry about that, he has to catch you first."_

"Hey, look at the bright side." Tucker, ever the optimist. Danny braced himself. "He has to catch you first! If you can get far enough, maybe he'll be too tired to kill you." He just glared at the teen holding up his right shoulder.

* * *

It had been a few months since Danny had run like this. Possibly track day, actually. 'Let's see, today is August 24th...'

He was bolting down 11th Street, Dash and two other jocks hot on his heels. It appeared they did not share his issues with endurance. Time for a risky gambit, then.

'So if the track meet was on May 19th...'

 _"You're thinking of Jazz's birthday party again. The track meet was the Wednesday before that."_

The sidewalk Danny was sprinting down ran parallel to the dregs of the morning commute. Traffic was moving at a good 30 miles an hour, but it wasn't too heavy. Just enough to be dangerous.

'Right, so the track meet was on May 12th. That's 19 days to the end of May.'

He waited for an opening, running half a block before it presented itself.

'19 and 31 to the end of June, that'd be 50 days.'

 _"June only has 30 days. Can I ask why we're doing math right now?"_

'Helps me stop thinking about my imminent demise. 49 days, then.'

He bolted from the sidewalk, alarming at least one city bus, two sedans, and a moving truck before he made it to the next sidewalk, horns blaring and brakes screeching as he went.

 _"You have really weird coping strategies. Me, for instance, when I'm worried somebody is about to beat me to a pulp, I like to distract myself by almost getting killed in traffic. Frogger is basically my happy place."_

Danny took a sharp left onto Poplar Avenue, moving away from the wide open major artery to a tree-lined residential street. He dared to take a glance behind him after a block. Dash and his cronies had already made it across and were gaining on him again.

He bit back at the panic clawing at his throat. 'OK, 49 days to the end of June. July makes 80 even.' He was momentarily distracted by the sight of the alleyway ahead of him; if he remembered correctly, it led to a park with plenty of escape routes. It would be the perfect place to lose his pursuers.

'And 24 plus 80 makes 104. It's been 104 days since I've had to run like this.' He took the right-hand turn and got several yards into the alley before realizing he was running straight at a high fence.

 _"So, uh. Funny story. That wasn't Poplar Avenue we were on, but I didn't think it'd be an issue. Since when is it legal to block up alleys like this anyway?"_

Danny barely heard the question, despite it being all in his head. He was far more focused on the pounding of running shoes against pavement right at the mouth of the alley. In a panic, he dove behind the nearest dumpster.

'In the future, please just _let me know_ before I walk into another death trap!'

 _"Hey, it's not a death trap. Maybe they don't even know you're down_ — _"_

"Oh Fen _tina,_ come out and play!" Danny groaned. "I know you're down here. C'mon, make it easy for me, and I'll go easy on you!" The bully's laughter echoed menacingly through the narrow passage.

 _"_ — _or maybe he knows exactly where we are. I didn't want to do this, but... Just, hold still. And don't scream."_

'What are you—' He thoughts were cut off as it felt as though every nerve in his body was being pulled straight out through his neck. All sense of warmth was cut off sharply as an icy cold trickled down into every pore of his being. It was like when he had fallen through thin ice as a child, the frigid stillness attacking his very core, burning away his body heat. Kicking against the dragging weight, the urge to stay above the water, to scream until rescue would arrive. When he finally wrenched his eyes open again, he tried to examine his right hand, and his left hand had to clamp down over his mouth to stifle a scream. He didn't need to be "rescued" by the people currently in earshot.

The voice practically hissed. _"Just stay calm. Let them look around. They won't see us."_ Danny wasn't listening. He couldn't see a single part of his body. Most of his being was either pleasantly numb or slightly tingling, although his head was pounding. It felt like somebody was prodding his brain and spine with sharpened icicles. He felt the warm bile run up his throat, and he was just barely able to hold it back.

When he dared to peek around the dumpster, he saw a furious looking Dash recede from the alley, his fellows in tow.

A beat passed.

 _"...are you OK?"_

And then another.

And then another.

 _"Dude, say something."_

He collapsed onto his hands and knees and puked. Stomach emptied, Danny fell over onto his side, dragging himself away from the puddle. Danny realized he was becoming visible again, a funny pins-and-needles feeling replacing the still coldness across his body.

'What... What the hell are you? What was that?' He was too physically tired to properly panic.

 _"At this point, I think it's more of a 'what are_ we _', but I guess that's splitting hairs. So, uh. No point hiding it now."_

Danny stood shakily. It felt like the walls were closing in, and he was keen to get back out into the fresh air. He made it about halfway before the voice in his head finished the thought. _"I... You... Well, I'm a ghost. I've been, uh. I've been living inside your head since the portal incident. Surpriiiiise!"_

'...what? I—'

It felt like his nerves were failing him again, but this time, instead of a chill, Danny was overtaken by blackness and the sensation of hitting the ground.

* * *

It had to be Monday. It just had to be. If it was Monday, then he was waking up on an entirely normal day. Before he had injured himself, pissed off his childhood bully, and completely lost his mind in the process.

The fact that he was still aching and could feel a burning in his throat did not help build that case. On the plus side, it seemed like he hurt less. With any luck, the soft surface he felt under him was his own mattress.

'OK, we're— No, _I'm_ just waking up. Because there's no way any of that stuff really happened. I was just a bit out of it after getting knocked around in the lab, right?'

Sky blue eyes fluttered open. On one hand, he was completely dressed, aside from his shoes and socks. On the other hand, at least he _was_ in his bed. Close enough.

"Oh, Danny, you're up!" He found himself pulled into a tight hug. The voice belonged to his sister. When she let him go, Danny was looking back at three very nervous people. Sam and Tucker tried to smile, but Jazz was just frowning. "I can't believe Dash knocked you out like that. I've never seen you in that kind of state before. If Sam and Tucker hadn't found you in that alley..."

Tucker cut in. "But hey, we did find you, and your sister seems pretty good at the whole first aid thing! You were only out for 3 hours!"

"Still, you've really got to be more careful, little brother. Now, I'd better go get this first aid kit back in the kitchen before mom and dad notice." With one last look of concern, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"This is why I like Jazz," Sam sounded contemplative. "She's perfectly capable of letting you know she disapproves, _without_ dragging the parents into it."

"Yeah, she's OK. Try living with her, though." Danny sat up, wincing. "When you aren't bleeding, she's all psychoanalysis and diagnosis."

"So, uh. What happened to you out there dude?" Tucker sounded almost afraid to ask. This was clearly worse than one of Dash's usual beatings, which Danny supposed it must have been. Because again, the alternative was far too strange to even bother considering.

"I... I honestly don't know. I don't think I have a concussion or anything, but I don't really remember what Dash did before I passed out." The lie came easily, but it made Danny uncomfortable all the same. In a sense, it probably was the truth, it only felt like a lie to him because he wasn't remembering things clearly. That made it a white lie, right?

"Maybe we should let you rest for a while..."

"No!" His suddenly urgent tone alarmed both his friends. "I mean, Sam, I appreciate the thought, but I'd like it if you guys would stick around for a bit. I, uh. I'd rather not be alone right now." That was definitely a lie. He seemed to have his brain back to himself after passing out, but it was one thing to have friends around, and quite another to not be the sole occupant of his thoughts. In that case, loneliness was preferable.

Fortunately, his friends were very understanding. The trio spent the bulk of the afternoon hanging out in his room. Danny asked them what had happened to him; according to Tucker, they had been searching for 10 minutes, shopping bags in arms, before they found him unconscious next to a pool of vomit. There was an awkward silence before the story picked up at Fentonworks, his friends apparently deciding not to press Danny for the gory details.

Ultimately, though, the afternoon turned to the evening. ("But we'll see you in school tomorrow!")

And the evening turned into the night. ("Goodnight, sweetie! Try to get some sleep, you look exhausted!")

And through it all, he hadn't heard a single voice that wasn't meant to be in the room.

Danny sighed and shifted deeper into his pillow. It had been a weird couple days, but tomorrow was the start of the rest of his teenage life. A whole new, ghost-free chapter.

 _"Well, about that..."_ Danny didn't even have the energy to roll over. He just squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the sheets over his head. _"Honestly, I don't like this any more than you do. But I haven't been... Entirely honest with you."_

* * *

Author's Note:

 _This was a hard chapter to write, the two that preceded it having burst forth in something like a fit, and this being planned and executed amidst a rather harrowing week on the "real life" front. It is amazing what a case of insomnia, several cups of tea, and very long playlist can do, however. And of course, the knowledge that I needed to stop leaving the readers on the hook. ;)_

 _I cannot say much else really. I hope you are still enjoying where this voyage is going. I have performed a basic spelling and grammar pass, but I fear there may be mistakes for me to fix in the morning._

 _Later in the morning, anyway._

 _Minor grammar pass, 23/10/2016_


	4. Chapter 3

_"I know for a fact that you're awake."_

Danny just breathed, his eyes shut tightly. It wasn't real. None of it was real. If he just ignored it, it would go away.

 _"Look, I'm sorry I wasn't more open with you to start with, but you're kind of proving my point here. Seriously, can we talk?"_

Maybe he should try counting sheep. He'd fall asleep, and maybe when he woke up tomorrow he'd get another period of lucidity. Was a few hours of sanity per day was enough to get through school...?

 _"Fine, then. Allow me to demonstrate how real I am. Come on champ, up and at 'em."_

Danny yelped as the feeling of his legs pressing against fabric disappeared, abruptly replaced by the cool static buzz he normally associated with a limb falling asleep. This time, the feeling seemed to permeate his legs entirely, from the surface to the bone, before the tingling crept up his spine. It was unpleasant, although not quite as bad as the frostbitten sensation he had experienced earlier.

He didn't feel his legs kick off his bedding or swing out over the edge of the mattress, but he could see he was doing so with his own eyes. The legs took a few tentative, shaky steps; Danny's upper body was working furiously, trying to maintain his balance over top of alien limbs.

'OK! _Fine_ , you've made your point!' He had to throw his arms out for balance to avoid tipping over as the lurching steps took him out into the middle of the room. 'Can you maybe stop trying to walk? You're really, _really_ bad at it.'

 _"Not my fault, I'm not exactly used to working with this many legs."_ The warmth did, however, flood back into his legs as the tingling sensation vanished, replaced with the feeling of carpet under bare feet and the rush of pumping blood. Danny breathed a sigh of relief, before leaning against his desk. _"So. As I was saying, I'm sorry I wasn't more open with you, but I thought you might react poorly if I—"_

'And what do you call what's happening now?! Because last I checked, after I turned invisible and was told I had been possessed, I puked and blacked out!'

 _"I haven't 'possessed' anything, thank you very much! You've got just as much control as I have."_

'Yeah? What do you call stringing up my legs like a marionette and taking me for a tour of the bedroom?'

 _"That was unpleasant for both of us. You insisted on making this difficult, not me."_

Danny just crossed his arms and put on his best defiant glare, although it was not directed at anyone or anything in particular. 'Call it what you want, I'd rather it didn't happen.'

 _"And what, you think I do?"_ Danny was somewhat taken aback at the tired tone behind the question. He bit back a snarky reply and just paused for a moment. He counted nine heartbeats before the voice sighed and continued, _"Look, I didn't ask for this any more than you did. But that accident yesterday..."_

The voice trailed off, giving Danny a moment to process what had been said. He suddenly felt a bit selfish, shifting uncomfortably against the desk; if this ghost didn't want to be attached to him either, it wasn't really fair to be so hard on it. Or... "hard on _him_ ", he supposed. That might be something worth asking about after he got a more important question out of the way.

"What happened to us yesterday?" He spoke quietly, not entirely sure he really wanted to know or not.

 _"...you turned on the ghost portal, from the inside. That was the first mistake. The second..."_ A chill seemed to settle in the room, causing Danny to shiver slightly. The voice seemed to need a moment to find its words. _"Maybe I was in the wrong place at the wrong time? All I know is, after the portal opened, I was floating freely in the lab for the smallest fraction of a second. I could see everything as if it wasn't really happening to me, you know? And... And then there was the pain. A_ lot _of pain. I don't even know if it was your injuries or mine, but it felt like I was being pulled apart and stitched back together all at once."_

Danny slid down to the floor. His head was spinning again, caught between feeling sorry for the poor ghost and struggling against half-forgotten memories from the incident that were trying to claw their way to the surface of his mind.

 _"My... Spirit, I suppose? It got tangled up with yours. The next thing I knew, I was in your body, getting thrown across the room. Or uh, in your mind, anyway. It's all disjointed, but now I feel as if I've always been a part of you. Like, I remember things from years ago I can't have been there for. I know all your hopes and fears, and for the most part, they're mine too, but... I also still feel a little separated from you. I guess the fact that we're having a conversation at all is proof of that."_

They were both quiet for a while. Danny just leaned back against the cool metal leg of his desk and stared out his window at the hazy orange cloud that hung over the city. He still wasn't sure how to feel about the ghost that had taken up residence in his brain. It seemed honest enough, friendly even, but his parents had told him enough horror stories that he still found himself on edge. And then there was that ever-present sense of _familiarity_ nagging at the back of his mind... But whatever the case, it seemed as though he didn't have many options at the moment, other than accepting that he was no longer alone in his own body.

At some point, he glanced over at his alarm clock; the numbers "12:51" glowed a menacing red in the dark room. With a groan, he hauled himself off the floor and clambered back into bed.

 _"Heh. I like our midnight chats. So, what do you say champ? As long as we're stuck together, can we at least cooperate?"_

'...OK.' The ghost seemed relieved by the answer. In spite of himself, Danny smiled slightly at that. After all, what was the worst that could happen?

* * *

"I'm so glad you finally decided to tag along. It's nice to have somebody to talk to for a change!" Sam was grinning as she turned to face the teen running behind her.

Danny did his best to return the smile, but truth be told this jog was a real strain. He had woken up at some stupidly early hour, and this was after staying up half the night trying to find out all he could from his ghostly passenger. That and most of his body still felt like death. But he would do anything to make Sam happy. If she wanted them to go for a jog, Danny would jog to the end of the earth.

They kept on jogging further and further until Danny barely recognized what part of Amity Park they were in. It felt like it had been hours, although the cold morning sun still held lazily just above the horizon. Finally, despite Danny's best efforts, he started falling behind Sam; it felt as though he was running through molasses, and he came to a slow stop as his limbs refused to respond. He was too tired to call after her, but luckily Sam noticed his sudden absence and ran back to help.

"You OK there Danny? You don't look so good." She lead him over to a nearby bench where he sat down.

His throat felt like sandpaper. "I'm doing fine. It's fine." As he said that, he realized he could no longer feel his own legs. He lowered his hands and started rubbing his calves frantically, like a man with hypothermia trying to bring blood back into his lower limbs.

"Are you sure you didn't overdo it, Danny? I know you don't get out very often. That's why I invited you along, actually."

"What do you mean?" He kept the tone light and inquisitive, although his heart was racing. It felt like somebody was letting the air out of his body, the sensation disappearing to be replaced by a sort of cold emptiness.

"Well, you know. You're kind of a dork. I feel sorry for damaged people like you. What, did you think we were friends or something?" She asked it so casually. It wasn't just shocking to Danny, it felt like somebody had dropped an ice cube down his shirt.

"What the hell are you talking about?! We've known each other since the third grade!" But doubt had started to creep into his tone. He realized just then that he looked as bad as he felt; his skeletal hands were still running over his legs, clawed fingers grasping at the flaking, waxy skin. When his sunken red eyes met again with Sam's violet ones, she pulled back slightly in mixed disdain and disgust at the sight of the walking corpse in front of her.

"You don't know me, Daniel Fenton. What makes you think a girl like me would ever be interested in a freak like you?" Her jeering laughter was quickly picked up by some of the forms gathering around them.

"Gross, it's like it thinks it's a real person or something!"

"Hey Fen _twerp_ , I always knew you were a freak! _Always._ "

Danny looked at the crowd. A gaggle of curious onlookers was joined by his eighth-grade tormentors. They had inscrutable dark smudges across where their faces should be, but he could tell it was them. It was always them. And he would never escape them. An angry, burning sensation lit up in his chest. If he couldn't escape from the mockery of these lesser mortals, he would just have to deal with them some other way. And he knew just where to start.

He leaped off the bench and grabbed Sam by the arm before she could escape. She yelped and recoiled at his touch. "I'll tell you what I _do_ know, girl. If you wish to reject my advances, perhaps there is some other way you can help me satiate this growing..." He pulled her close for the final word, a deafening whisper that carried perfectly over her screaming, "Hunger."

It felt good to have a life in his hands like this. Would he make this quick and easy, or slow...? The fire in his chest flared, burning away what was left of his skin and clothing, melting away the grin that had formed across his face. 'Slowly' seemed most appropriate for this one. He wanted to savor the moment he began his new existence. Sam's screams were cut off as the demonic ghost grabbed her by the throat, preparing to sink his fangs into her tender neck—

 _"Whoa, ease up there Dracula. You seriously have no idea what ghosts are like, do you?"_

Danny blinked. He was back to normal; that horrid creature he had become was gone, along with Sam, the park bench, the jogging trail... Actually, where the hell was he now?

 _"How about the living room? Clearly, we need to talk this out a bit."_

Suddenly, he was sitting on the couch back at his house. The voice in his head sat opposite him in an armchair. Although come to think of it, Danny had no idea what that would look like.

 _"...wow, really?"_ The voice was clearly not happy with the appearance Danny had come up with. He was covered with a sheet, with dark eye holes cut out approximately where Danny assumed his face would be. Jeans and sneakers picked up where the sheet ended.

 _"Whatever, I can work with this."_ The ghost crossed his very human legs and leaned back into the chair, resting his head against a sheet-covered hand. _"So I get the feeling that you might be handling the whole 'half-ghost-half-human' thing a little bit poorly."_

Danny shivered a bit at the memory of what had just happened. "Can you blame me? You saw what I just did! Or... What I was about to do, anyway!" Even to Danny, it sounded like he was more pleading to be contradicted than stating facts.

The reply was gentle. _"Come on,_ _i_ _t was just a nightmare_ _. N_ _one of that was real."_

"It felt real enough." He was practically whispering now, eyes moving down to shaking hands. "I was going to kill her. I _wanted_ to kill her."

 _"Hey!"_ the voice snapped, trying to get Danny's attention off his darkening thoughts. He kept staring intently at Danny until the youth met his expectant gaze. _"If you remember only one thing from this dream, remember this. That accident may have messed with your body, but it definitely didn't change who you are as a person. That monster wasn't you. It wasn't even me, and of the two of us I'm the one that's actually dead, remember?"_

The ghost leaned forward in the chair, sheeted hands clasped in front of him. _"Believe me, I've seen who you are. And you'd_ never _let any harm come to your friends as a result of me, and especially not by your own hands."_

"How can you sound so sure? We've known each other, what, two or three days?"

Danny knew the ghost was smirking, although it wasn't visible under the fabric. _"Well, on the first point, we're in this together remember? So you don't need to worry about suddenly losing your marbles and killing people. If you try, I'll lock us in a closet or something."_ That brought out a small smile in the teen to match his spectral counterpart.

 _"As for the second... Well, I have access to most of your thoughts. I think I know you better than anyone at this point."_

In a funny way, Danny did feel reassured. He still didn't know a lot about this ghost, but it seemed to know him well enough to know what he needed to hear. Maybe this little arrangement would turn out OK after all, but one lingering question remained. "You seem to know so much about me, so answer me this. Who were you? I don't even know what you look like."

The other's smile broadened. _"I think that's one puzzle you're going to have to work out on your own."_

Oh, so it's a game now is it? Danny got up and closed the gap between him and the voice. "Alright, but I bet you weren't expecting..." He whipped off the sheet, yelling triumphantly, "THIS!"

A pair of jeans, sneakers, and one of his own red-and-white t-shirts hung suspended in the air as if being worn by the Invisible Man. They shifted as the voice moved in his seat. _"Nice try, but I think you forgot that this is still your dream, not mine."_ Of course... He had no idea what else would have been under the sheet.

The clothes stood up, and Danny could feel a humorous look matching his frown. An invisible hand clasped him on the shoulder. _"Maybe let's just leave it there for tonight, huh? It's been a rough day."_

The room and its occupants were replaced by blackness, and the next thing Danny knew his alarm clock was blaring.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _I am endeavoring to make these chapters a bit longer than is my habit, as I believe I tend toward rather bite-sized sections. Such frequent divisions are not even **my** preference as a reader. A humorous contradiction, yes? Anyway, I will wrap this note up and get this chapter published. I must confess I am very keen to see how this is received. Too dialogue heavy? A little bit too... Unusual, perhaps? Say, why not drop a review? ;)_


	5. Chapter 4

A hand slammed down on the top of the clock, silencing its shrill cries. As Amity Park groggily awoke to the first day of classes in the public school system, the traffic outside sounded heavier than usual; even the birds seemed to warble and trill more frantically as if they too had sensed the subtle shifts in movement.

"Frantic" could not have been further from Danny's mind. His back ached with every subtle movement under the sheets, heavy eyes still glued shut after a seemingly restless night. He hadn't stirred for a matter of minutes when he heard the knock at his door.

"Danny, sweetie? Are you awake?"

He mumbled something noncommittal. Apparently, that was enough to satisfy his mother because he shortly heard footsteps moving away from the door. The next voice was decidedly different.

"Good morning."

Danny's eyes blinked open, shaking off the last dregs of sleep. Or so he would have assumed, but this was clearly _not_ his bedroom.

He was standing in front of a reception desk looking at a stranger, who was herself eyeing him up and probably wondering why he had been staring blankly at her for the last few seconds. When he didn't say anything, she continued. "You're here for your schedule, right? What's your name?"

"Uh... I'm Danny- Well, Daniel. Fenton. Um, where am I?" He took a few tentative steps forward.

"You must be Jasmine's brother, right?" The woman began searching through some folders spread in front of her. "Have you never visited your big sister at school? Try not to worry too much, most people get lost once or twice, but you'll figure it out pretty quickly. We're on the north side of the building," she examined the sheet of paper she had selected, "and it looks like most of your classes will be in the East Wing this semester. The cafeteria is over on the south end. If you need help finding something, just ask any older student, I'm sure they'll be happy to help." She smiled warmly, holding his schedule out toward him. He took it hesitantly.

"Sure. Thank you." He left what must have been the school's front office and stood in a lobby facing the front doors. He was (thankfully) fully clothed and about 14 blocks from home. This... This had to be some kind of record. '...how long was I out this time?'

 _"Well, 7:30 alarm, it's probably about 20-to-9 now... An hour, I guess."_

He just sighed and rubbed his brow. 'Seriously, we've been over this. Please don't just walk me around the city like this.'

 _"What? Nothing happened this morning I couldn't handle, and you actually slept through a shower. If you were that tired I think trying to wake you up would have gone against the Geneva Convention or something."_

He was about to reply when he heard somebody calling his name, drawing his attention back to the busy room around him.

"Hey, Danny!" Tucker was walking toward him, with a wave.

Danny returned the wave. "Hey, Tuck! You've got your schedule?"

"Yeah, somehow I managed to get here early this morning. Did you know staying up past 6 _isn't_ the only way to be awake at 7 am?"

"So I've been told. What's your first class?"

Tucker handed Danny his own schedule and the two compared notes. "Well, looks like we have first-period math together. You're probably on your own for chemistry, I'll be in CS and I think Sam took physics. Oh, looks like you and me have English together with Sam in third, that should be a laugh."

"...Tucker, why did you take computer science, media production technology, _and_ industrial arts in the same semester? That's going to be brutal. I've only got art and biology in the afternoon."

Tucker raised an eyebrow. "Danny, come on. I'm a geek. An afternoon of technical classes is going to be _relaxing_. It's you and your weird arty schedule I'm worried about."

Danny just smiled and shrugged it off. "Hey, sorry for trying to keep it balanced out a bit. With any luck, I'll have a pretty easy-going day."

"Well yeah, it's the first day. I'm pretty sure teachers aren't allowed to actually do any teaching until Labor Day."

* * *

"...And so Mr. Falluca spent the hour talking about triangles, then in the second period Ms. Phillips just said 'But what _is_ chemistry?' and we went around the room trying to come up with an answer." It was only 11 o'clock and Danny was already bored out of his mind.

Sam seemed to share his opinion. She seemed to need both arms to keep her head supported above her desk, eyes half closed. "You should have seen my history class. We spent five minutes going over the syllabus and that was all. The dude said so little I'm only _pretty sure_ his name was Mr. Carradine. Or that he teaches history."

"How about you Tucker? ...Tucker?" Danny turned in his seat. His friend was slumped over his desk, snoring into his backpack.

Danny grabbed the bag by the strap and yanked it out from under Tucker's head, waking the sleeping teen with a start. "— _no don't frag that barrel!_ ...wait, what? What'd I miss?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You were up all night playing Doomed again, weren't you?"

"No! ...Well, yes, but I was fine until computer science. You could record Garrett talking about Visual Basic's operator precedence and sell it as a sleep-aid."

The door slamming cut the conversation short as a bald, pointed man moved across the front of the room. The class fell silent as he walked promptly over to his desk to set down a rather large stack of books. "Good morning class, welcome to English. My name is Mr. Lancer," which he began to write on the board, "We have a lot of material to cover today, so I'll keep introductions short." When he turned to face them again, his smile didn't quite seem to match the glint in his eyes.

"They don't do things by halves around here huh?" Danny had tried to mutter it quietly, but he heard a few nervous chuckles from his friends.

 _"Hey, how bad can this English stuff be? You speak it all the time."_

"We will begin with a survey of anti-war literature from the interwar period of 1918 through 1941. The associated assignments and essay will be worth 20% of your final grade. That should take us through to early October. Since the second module starts during Spirit Week, an examination of Romantic era poetry of the 19th Century seems only appropriate. Since we don't have all year, this unit will be focusing on some of the main players, namely Blake, Coleridge, Keats, Byron, and Shelley, with a short section toward the end examining their influences on postmodernist works. Just before Halloween, we'll have an exam worth 25% of your final grade to mark the midpoint of the semester. The balance will come from three short assignments, a paper, and five pop quizzes in our third and final unit; a comparative look at spiritual and philosophical themes in science fiction published between 1940 and 1955, versus those in that, published from 1960 to 1975." He paused for a moment to look at the class meaningfully, adding, "That's 55%, in case you can't quite count to 100 yet."

'I'm so screwed.'

 _"...OK, I'm sure it's not as bad as it sounds. I mean, list off a year's worth of anything and it's going to be intimidating, right?"_

The teacher was now handing out books. "Since I'm sure you weren't expecting to do much, we'll start off simple. Please turn to page 54 and read The Sniper. Pay close attention, think of what the author is trying to say, and we'll spend some time discussing it."

It was a short story, but Danny found it hard to pay much attention to it. He could tell the voice, on the other hand, was really invested in every line. Its sense of awe was almost overwhelming when he got to the concluding paragraph. _"Wow, that was... Fascinating. I thought English class was going to be more boring mouth-talking! Why didn't you tell me it was about reading cool stuff?"_

Danny rolled his eyes. 'Because that would have been a lie. How are you so into this?'

 _"How are you_ not _into this? That author managed to cram so much meaning into so little space!"_

'It was like 1000 words and all that happened was one dude shot another dude.'

 _"Well yeah, but that wasn't all there was. There was this whole_ world _and layers of meaning and stuff right there, just not, you know, written down. When he says it was 'his brother's face', do you think that meant the sniper's actual brother or more in the 'all men are brothers' sense?"_

'...it's funny that you think I was paying even half as much attention to that story as you were.'

"Young man, I hope you're very seriously thinking about what you've just read, and are _not_ just staring gormlessly into space." The voice over his shoulder nearly made Danny jump out of his skin.

"I, uh, no sir, I was um... Just wondering, about that final line. You know, if it was literally the sniper's brother, or if that was more in a figurative way."

Lancer seemed impressed. "A surprisingly good question, Mr...?"

"Danny."

"Yes, well, 'Mr. Danny' raises a good point. The story juxtaposes the humanity of its characters with the inhumanity of their actions;" Lancer walked back to the front of the class and Danny breathed a sigh of relief. "With that in mind, would anybody care to give an opinion on Danny's question?" When nobody came forward, he added meaningfully, "Bearing in mind that class participation may become part of your grade for this unit."

The rest of the period was spent frantically taking down notes at the suddenly quite lively discussion.

* * *

"Man, I wasn't expecting to have to write that much today. I think I sprained my wrist..."

"Come on dude, you took down maybe a page and a half of notes. Did you go soft over the summer?" Tucker actually reached over the table and grabbed him by the shoulders, an intense look in his eyes. "Am I not talking to the same Danny Fenton whose mouse-clicking prowess carried us through three back-to-back tank battles in Call of Honor Online two weeks ago?"

"Yeah, I'm just saying, I really hope it's not that intense all year. Some of the stuff people were claiming to see in that story... They had to be making some of that stuff up, right? ...and uh, can you let go of me?" The other teen did so and leaned back with a sheepish grin. Danny dusted off his shoulders jokingly but regretted it when a sharp pain shot up his entire writing arm. He winced, but apparently Tucker didn't notice.

"You're one to talk, you got that whole ball rolling. I hadn't taken you for some kind of literary enthusiast."

He was saved from answering to that by Sam's arrival."You know what they say, Tucker, when in English class, do as the English teachers do." Tucker seemed to be paying more attention to her lunch tray.

"Sam, what the hell is wrong with your sandwich?" The grin ran off her face.

"For your information, there's nothing wrong with it. It's a tofurkey sandwich with wheatgrass jelly. It's perfectly nutritious and 100% ethical."

"I wouldn't use the word 'perfect' to describe that. Danny looks like he's going to be sick."

She examined him with concern. He still had a pained expression. "Whoa, you don't look so good, Danny. Are you alright?" He was not; the pain was getting worse, turning from a stabbing pain just in his wrist to a radiating pain that seemed to run out to his fingers and his elbow.

"Of course he's not. _Nothing_ is alright in a world where wheatgrass jelly exists."

 _"There's a bathroom right next to the cafeteria. You should probably head there until this passes."_

"Uh, hey, guys?" Sam and Tucker stopped bickering and turned to face him, "I'm not feeling so hot. I'll... I'll be right back." He stood up abruptly and left the room, ignoring the pair of confused stares.

The bathroom was indeed just down the hall. Fortunately, it was empty. 'How do you know this place so well already?'

 _"I pay attention? You really should give it a shot."_

Danny ignored the jibe and ran his wrist under cold water. The pain eased somewhat, but the joint still felt oddly stiff.

 _"Can I ask you a question?"_

'And if I say no?'

 _"Hardy har. Look, do you trust me?"_

'...'

 _"...OK, that's kinda what I expected. I want to try something, but I'm going to need you to get comfortable and relax your right arm."_

Danny smirked. 'Alright, I can do that. I was worried you were going to ask me to jump off a building or something.' He took one last look to make sure he was alone before hopping up onto the counter, letting his arm fall limp at his side.

 _"Alright. Let's do this..."_ The voice sounded nervous. That was worrying, but Danny could try to ignore that for the moment. Suddenly, his right hand entered his field of vision. _"Whoa. This is weird."_

The hand clenched and relaxed experimentally before the arm waved around. For his part, Danny couldn't feel a thing from the shoulder down, although he could tell that if it had a mouth the voice would have been grinning wildly. 'So... Was that all you wanted to do?'

 _"Not quite. I just wanted to make sure I could control_ this _."_ Danny heard a crackling sound. He realized where it was coming from when his hand began to shimmer, before glowing a subtle shade of peridot. The color seemed to swell outward, flame-like tendrils licking at the surrounding air before it rose off the surface and seemed to collect slightly above the hand's upheld palm in a loose ball. Hanging in the air, the sphere shifted slightly from some inner turbulence for half a second.

That was when Danny's brain caught up with what he was seeing. With a yelp, he jerked back on the phantom limb, startling his partner and sending the ball shooting across the room. It hit the opposite wall, reducing a poster to ashes and leaving a scorch mark on the painted bricks.

He was clutching his right hand in his left. The palm felt almost... Sunburned? Uncomfortably warm, at the least. Danny sensed the voice's frown. _"What was that for? I totally had that under control!"_

He hopped off the counter to run his arm under the cold tap. 'I panicked! You could have warned me you wanted to screw around with crazy ghost fire, you know. Man, I think my hand got burned...'

 _"...that_ was _pretty sweet, though, right?"_

'Are you kidding? I can shoot _fireballs_ , this is freaking cool!' They were both smiling now. 'But I might have to wear gloves before we do that again.' Danny shut off the water and dried off his arm. The burn marks were practically already gone; just a slightly red patch where moments ago there had been an angry throbbing. He realized that the ghost seemed to be teetering on the edge of saying something, but had remained silent. Had it been upset by the suggestion? '...Are you against gloves or something?'

The teetering question toppled over. _"You really want to do that again?"_ The tone was almost nervous. Had it been audible, it would have been nearly a whisper.

'Well, yeah. I mean, the last two times you did anything like that it felt like I'd been kicked in the gut, but that was alright.'

Just then the door swung open, and Tucker appeared on the other side of it, looking concerned. "Hey, Danny? Are you feeling OK? Sam's lunch didn't actually make you spew, did it?"

He just grabbed his right forearm in his left hand and rotated the joint experimentally. With a genuine smile, he just replied, "No, no, nothing like that... You know what? I _am_ feeling better."

Danny could tell the other two felt relieved to hear that.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _And welcome back to Flustered Dialogue: The Fanfiction. In keeping with tradition, apparently, of every other chapter being quite difficult to write, this one went through quite a revision process. With many thanks to my friend who allowed me to bounce ideas off of him, even if that bargain meant I had to read over his paleobotany paper. It is gratifying to know that, even with spiders the size of small cats and terrifying lizards, it is indeed possible to make paleontology boring._

 _Regardless. This chapter is now complete, and the next one should be up in a more timely manner. Assuming things do not become shuffled around in the cutting room as happened here, expect some tough questions to come up. That is all I will say._


	6. Chapters 6, 5, and 6

Danny and Tucker walked down the hall briskly, eager to get back before their absence sparked questions. The hallway was utterly deserted; dozens of locked doors leading to darkened rooms were all that interrupted row after row of lockers that otherwise covered the walls on their way.

"Tucker, I don't recognize this hallway. Do you know where we're going?"

"Really? We've been here tons of times. We just need to get to the end of this hallway."

Danny was uneasy about that. He couldn't put his finger on why, but something seemed a bit off about this. Such a long hallway couldn't be entirely abandoned in the middle of school, could it? Unless somebody had planned for him to be here without witnesses...

Realizing his mistake, he shouted, "Run, Tuck! It's a trap!" just as he caught a blur of red and white heading for him out of his peripheral vision. Dash Baxter shoved him into the lockers with all the force of a freight train, pinning the helpless teen's throat with his entire forearm.

Looming over him like this, Danny could barely see Dash's face aside from the malevolent grin. "Well, Fenton, looks like your luck has run out hasn't it?" the jock hissed. There was none of the usual jeering in his tone. This was pure rage. "What kind of stunt did you pull in that alley, huh? You just had to make me look like a fool, didn't you? **Didn't you?** " Shouting with rage, he punched the locker right next to Danny's head, leaving a deep dent.

Danny struggled to get away, but it was useless. He was trapped, completely at the mercy of his tormentor. He could barely breathe, let alone speak, but he managed to choke out, "What are you going to do?"

The mouth was less than an inch from his face, and suddenly its owner seemed more serious than he had ever seen the jock. "You're done, Fenton. I'm going to kill you."

Now Danny was really panicking, kicking and impotently trying to shove Dash away from him. "No! No, Dash, I didn't mean to embarrass you! Please! Somebody, _help!_ "

But Dash was already pulling back his fist, the next strike aimed right for Danny's head. The teen reflexively raised his hands to block the punch, but it never came. When he opened his eyes, the bully was backing away from him, clutching his chest, his eyes wide with fear. All he managed to say was "What... What are you?!" before he had backed into the opposite wall.

Danny had no idea what Dash was talking about, until he realized his hands were wreathed in spectral flames. 'Damn it, what did you _do?_ '

The reply sent a chill through his entire being. _"You asked for help. I helped. Dash won't be bothering you again."_

'You can't just shoot humans, you psycho!' Danny was disgusted with the voice and himself. He could see the green-tinged burn marks on the letter jacket around the edges of Dash's hands. "Hey, Dash, calm down, I didn't mean to hurt you! Come on, you've got to get to the nurse!" He said it softly so as not to spook the trembling teen, holding out a placating hand while floating toward him.

As soon as the hand approached, Dash made a feeble attempt to swat it away. Danny felt the ghost's energy course through him again, and before he could stop it, another fireball shot straight at the other teen's shoulder.

That was when the screaming started. Dash cried out in pain when the fire connected; unlike the first shot, these flames spread rapidly over his entire body like it had been covered in gasoline. He was hardly visible as anything other than a silhouette covered in sinister, phosphorescent flames. Danny could only watch dumbstruck, dropping from his floating position to the floor as the acrid stench of burning fabric and flesh met his nose, and then dropping to his knees as the burning man collapsed in on itself into a pile of dust.

"Danny, don't worry, I went and got Sam and your parents!" Wait, Tucker! He had forgotten he hadn't been alone! "Where's Dash? Where... Wha... What the hell did you _do_?!"

The ghostly teen tore his eyes away from the accusatory ashes to meet his friend's gaze, and froze. Tucker looked horrified. So did Sam. His parents were there, of course, and they looked furious. His mother spoke first.

"What did you do with our son, _ghost_? And what did you do to that other innocent boy?" Her words dripped with the same venom that overtook her expression.

"I didn't- It- Dash just—"

His father's voice drowned out his stammering. It held no anger. Just cold judgment. "Save it, spectral scum." A gloved hand raised a gun level, and pulled the trigger.

Danny screamed until he had exhausted the breath in his lungs.

 _"Man, that was loud enough to wake the dead! What's wrong champ?"_

Danny blinked. He was in his room, sitting bolt upright in bed, and clutching his sheets with white-knuckled hands. 'It... It was a dream.'

He could feel a twinge of concern. _"Another one of those, huh? ...who was it?"_

The teen just flopped back against the mattress. He focused on taking deep, slow breaths; his brain was insisting that it wasn't getting enough oxygen. 'Dash. I... He burned to death. Disintegrated. And then I got shot by dad.'

 _"Look, have you thought maybe... That maybe, you should talk to somebody about this?"_ Sensing oncoming objections, it continued, _"I don't mean like a shrink, but you_ clearly _aren't handling this well on your own. You could tell Sam, even, since you promised to talk with her tomorrow anyway."_

'I don't want to get my friends worried over nothing, and- Hey... Back up, when did I promise to talk with Sam? What about?'

 _"Right after you got out of biology, remember?"_

'No, I don't remember saying anything like that.' He paused and grasped for the memory. Or any memory of the afternoon, for that matter; it was like searching for the coastline in heavy fog. 'Wait a second, how did I even get out of the bathroom?'

 _"Are you messing with me?"_

'No! The last thing I remember was talking to Tucker after the fireball thing, then... That dream, and then talking to you! What the hell happened?'

 _"Uh... That was a while ago."_

'Yeah, I figured out that much!'

 _"Are you seriously telling me you don't remember anything after that? None of this?"_

* * *

I was relieved that Danny was taking this better than the last time I had to use any of my powers. Or, our powers, to be more accurate. You'd think I'd be better at the whole "one body, two minds" thing by now. I could tell Danny was still having issues with that, but I hold myself to a higher standard. One of us has to, right?

The three of us left the bathroom and made our way back to the cafeteria. Sam seemed highly amused.

"Hey guys, I was starting to get worried you wouldn't be back before the bell. What took so long Danny, you fall in or something?" My other half just went along with the joke, laughing before firing some line back. The subtleties of her expression had clearly gone right over his head, but I could tell she was holding back from asking something. Maybe it was the subtle twitch of her brow, maybe it was something in the tightness of her lips when she smiled and laughed. Obvious enough, I thought, but then again Danny _was_ pretty lacking in the social department. It seemed like he just couldn't read people on his own.

Ah well. I'd let him figure this one out on his own. She was probably planning to ask him sooner or later, and I didn't want to ruin her timing. Besides, Danny was hilarious when he got caught off guard.

Danny and I didn't talk for a while after that. He was busy chatting with his friends, and I was still thinking over that story we had read in English class. Two things struck me as peculiar. I suppose the first was that it seemed odd to read an Irish story in a class called "English". I would have to ask Danny about that later. Although, what I really wondered at was the act of violence between brothers. Literal or not, it seems like they could have avoided an awful lot of trouble if they had just told each other who they were before the shooting began.

I suppose that was the trouble with communication, though. It required a certain willingness on behalf of both parties. The disastrous conclusion of the story had me reflecting on my own actions. Perhaps I should tell Danny ████ that even █████████████ █ ██ █ █

* * *

█ ██ I █████ until ████ later. About then I realized Danny was sitting down at a desk and staring at a blank sheet of paper, pencil in his hand. I could tell he was frustrated. Since he clearly wasn't busy, I supposed now would be an OK time for us to talk.

 _"You know champ if you want to beat paper, I'd go with scissors before trying to stare it to death."_

He just rolled his eyes. My comedy was lost on this audience. 'I was going to try the pencil first, but I don't even know where to start with this one. How are you supposed to "draw a straight line that isn't a straight line"? What does that even _mean_?'

Ah, so we were in art class. Never one of his better subjects. The teacher was sitting behind her desk looking intently over her class, the barest hint of a smile visible as gleaming eyes swept over some of the early results. Danny wasn't the only one struggling, but I doubted he'd get what the assignment was about. Not without some help, anyway. _"Here, let me try something..."_

Before he could object, I grabbed for the left hand, since it was sitting unoccupied on the desk. Happily, he remembered to relax his grip on the limb, and I was able to painlessly take it over. I plucked the pencil out of his other hand and set to work. The feeling of skin _brushing_ over the paper was just like every other sensation I had dealt with so far. Familiar and yet so very alien. It sent a chill down my spine; I suspected I would never get used to it.

'That looks an awful lot like a straight line to me.'

 _"Obviously, that's the assignment."_

'Yeah, but the second part was to _not_ make a straight line. I could have gotten as far as step one myself, thanks.'

I rolled my eyes at that. Well, in a manner of speaking. _"It's all a matter of perspective. Now hush, artistic genius at work here."_

A few moments later, I had the basic outline of a small house drawn in two-point perspective. The leading corner of the building seemed to form a straight line with the hip on the roof in the drawing, although the perspective obviously made it appear like it was not one continuous edge. I hoped that was more or less what she had been looking for and quickly doodled in some windows and brickwork.

'Oh, I guess I see what you mean? If she wanted us to draw something in perspective, why didn't she just say so?'

 _"I dunno, maybe she just wanted to screw with you. Hey, how much longer is this class anyway? I kinda want to talk to you about something."_

'It's only 1:40, it's still gonna be a while. She said she wanted to go over some syllabus stuff after we were done this drawing thing.'

Typical. I have something important to talk about, he's too busy. But that was the benefit of our relationship now; only one of us had to really be paying attention. _"Alright, well, I wish you the best of luck with that! Grab me in about 40 minutes."_

'Come on, don't bail out-'

* * *

 _"So what are we doing?"_

Danny jumped in his seat, earning a confused stare from Sam, who was sitting on the right-hand side of the lab bench. I suppressed a chuckle. 'Well, I _was_ listening to the basics of cellular structure, but now I think I'm going to go find a priest and ask for an exorcism.'

I ignored that remark. _"Is this biology? Why didn't you try to get my attention between classes?"_

'Yeah, how exactly did you think I was going to do that? Because I don't really know how to work your freaky ghost mind powers.'

Again, his powers too, but apparently we'd be having _that_ conversation later. _"Fine, whatever. We'll talk about it after class."_ I could tell he wanted some answers now, but like hell I was going over _that_ in such a public place. Sam saved me from a tedious line of questioning by choosing that moment to butt in. One of her many excellent qualities.

She leaned over in her chair and harshly whispered, "Danny, what is up with you lately?"

He turned his head down and pretended to be taking notes before replying in a low voice. "Nothing's up, what are you talking about?"

Not low enough apparently. The third voice came from the front of the room. "Daniel, is there something you would like to add to my list of organelles?"

Danny's full attention snapped back to the front of the class. "Uh, n- no, Mrs. Soucie. Sorry."

"Very well, then. Now, the cytoskeleton can also contract, deforming the cell. I'll give bonus points to anybody who can tell me something this might imply about its larger role in, say, animal anatomy."

I suppose I may never know because at that point Danny more or less tuned out the rest of the lecture. It was annoying only understanding speech he was paying attention to since that left the pair of us with little to think about apart from the awkward tension between him and Sam. As fun as that sounded, I opted to tune it out and spent the remainder of the class flipping through some of his memories of eighth grade, trying to settle the whole Irish-English thing for myself. It was a surprisingly uninformative half hour.

I realized we had arrived at the end of class when Danny's adrenaline spiked, in a big way. I checked in and found him at his locker, with the heavy fall of combat boots approaching him through the crowd.

Sam leaned forcefully against the locker next to him, crossing her arms. "OK Danny, spill. What's going on with you? And don't try to tell me it's nothing."

"It _is_ nothing Sam! I guess I'm just a bit nervous about school and all."

Wrong answer. "Come on, don't even try to brush this off. You've been acting super weird since that portal accident. It's like half the time you aren't even really there, and I keep catching you super deep in thought, frowning or smiling like you're going over these long conversations in your head, even when you're in class or sitting with me and Tucker at lunch."

Man, she was good. This is why I liked Sam. _"You should probably tell her about me, you know. You've never kept secrets from Sam and Tucker, why start now?"_

Danny sighed. "OK, you've got me. There is something up. But... Can we talk about it before school tomorrow? I'm kind of exhausted right now."

She was still frowning, but seemed to accept that deal. "Fine. I'll talk to you tomorrow then." And she left without another word.

 _"...hey, good job champ, you totally didn't get punched in the face. I'm not sure what good you think delaying it is going to do, but_ — _"_

'Hey, cut me some slack! I don't even know what I'm going to tell her! Like, "Hey Sam, so it turns out after I got thrown across the room the other day, there's this ghost that lives in my head and maybe I'm kind of becoming a ghost myself but don't worry! It's probably all fine!"'

 _"Well when you put it that way, yeah, it sounds kinda bad."_ I sighed. I guess I'd have to tell him before he got more keyed up, although I wasn't sure what I was going to tell him any more than he knew what to tell Sam. _"That brings me to_ ██ ████ _talk about_ ██████ ████ █ █

* * *

 _"And you seriously don't remember any of that? Or anything since?"_

'Can you... I need a moment. Please.' That had been a hell of a lot to process. Not just the events described, but how Danny seemed to have been given a peek into the other mind in his head. He knew that the ghost seemed to have access to his memories, but since when did he have access to the ghost's? Was that even what had happened just now?

He shimmied a bit, trying to find a comfortable spot on the mattress. He could assume that what he had witnessed were true events, but even with this new information he had no idea why he hadn't remembered them himself. He seemed to be setting new records for blank spaces in his memory at an alarming pace. Was it still just a side-effect of that head injury? As bad as that would be, it seemed better than the alternative.

Danny... Well, he more or less trusted this ghost. It hadn't given him any reason to distrust it, really. But at the same time, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something it wasn't telling him. Even now, there were wide gaps in its recollections of the day, and in particular a whole conversation after he had left his locker, which the ghost had apparently been dreading all day. Not to mention whatever had happened between that and now. A quick check of the clock showed it was 3:17 am. Nearly twelve hours. He definitely hadn't been asleep _that_ long.

He was now four days into this debacle, and Danny was getting tired of having two new questions pop up for each one he had answered.

'No, I can't remember any of that. Or anything else in the last 15 hours.' He felt a wave of relief from the ghost, which only annoyed him further. 'But I'd like to change that now, so how about you finish that conversation you started outside my locker?'

 _"Oh, you uh... Saw that."_

'Was I not supposed to? Why is that, I wonder?'

The ghost was silent. The silence stretched on well into uncomfortable territory, as Danny's heart hammered in his chest. 'Well?'

 _"Look, I know what you're thinking. I had nothing to do with you losing your memory. I didn't mean to, anyway."_

'And?'

 _"And, the conversation was... It's probably for the best you don't remember how it went the first time around. I'll tell you, just... Don't take it too badly this time, alright champ?"_

'I'm not making any promises until you just tell me what the hell is going on.'

 _"It's about who I am."_

'Is... Is that it? What could be so bad about that?'

 _"Because, I'm the ghost of Daniel Fenton."_

* * *

Author's Note:

 _Something a bit different, hmm? I decided fairly early on that the ghost would narrate in the first person, as opposed to the subjective third person perspective we see with Danny. I also decided early on that the ghost would be a bit full of himself, which hopefully may make one or two things make sense in retrospect. I will say I am a bit less happy with how their interactions played out in this chapter, but it is satisfactory to me nonetheless. All one may do is seek to improve with every attempt, yes?_

 _On that note, I have been asked by a certain someone to issue the following correction: Contrary to my claims in the author's note of last chapter, spiders the size of cats have never existed, now or at any time in the past. Would-be time travelers with arachnophobia, rejoice._


	7. Chapter 7

_"For the record? This is exactly what I was worried about."_

Danny ignored the ghost— _could it actually be his_ _ghost?_ — and focused instead on navigating Amity Park's streets under the orange sodium vapor glow. Focusing on a tangible end goal was good. The mental tunnel vision stopped him from thinking too much about what had happened that night, or for that matter what he would do when he _got_ to his destination.

 _"Couldn't you at least have put on something besides PJs before you ran out of the house?"_

There was also the matter of how he was getting there. He had, in fact, put on his shoes before leaving. At least in the heat of the moment, he had remembered that much. Otherwise, it was just him, blue cotton pajamas, and untied Converse Oxfords, running down darkened sidewalks. It might have been funny in a way if it wasn't for the clammy sweat or his heart making its best effort to beat right out of his chest.

 _"I'm pretty sure this is what Jazz would call a panic attack. Or maybe just like, 'a bad idea'. Me, I say, why not call it both? You're panicking and this is a bad idea. Please,_ please _stop and think this through!"_

However, to Danny's mind, he had already done all the thinking he needed to. Concord Avenue to 11th Street. 11th for three blocks then turn left onto Arlington. Two blocks north, right on 9th Street, next left onto Park Avenue. Five houses down on the west side, throw a pebble or two at the third window on the second floor. The rest he could work out from there.

 _"OK, I get it. You found out that you're kind of dead. Just a bit dead, even. Like, barely a noticeable amount of dead-ness. Sure, that's a bummer, but is it worth trying to wake her up at 3:30 in the morning?"_

For the first time in over 10 minutes, he fired back. 'I told her I'd talk about it before school, and that's what I'm gonna do.'

 _"Oh good, you can still talk. I was getting worried. So tell me this, is it really worth getting so worked up about this when Sam is 100% going to 100% kill you for this?"_

Just then, Danny skidded to a stop in front of number 717. 'Don't care. I need to tell somebody that isn't you.' He counted windows, bent over to grab some pebbles, and threw one.

And then he threw another.

And another.

 _"Well, you tried your best. Looks like she's not waking up champ. Now, can we—"_

The window opened silently, and a half-asleep Sam leaned out into the humid night air. She blinked blearily a few times, before connecting the dots and realizing that Danny Fenton was _actually_ standing outside on the curb.

"D- Danny? What the hell are you doing out there?"

"Can we talk?"

It was either a testament to their friendship, or that Sam was far too tired to argue, but she disappeared from the window without further comment. A moment later, a rope ladder rolled out in her place.

* * *

With shaky hands, Danny clambered up and over the windowsill, before promptly collapsing on the floor. As he was catching his breath, Sam was sitting on the bed in a pair of purple flannel pants and an old _Late Greats_ concert t-shirt. She hadn't even looked at him, being preoccupied with scribbling in the book that lay open in her lap. They were both silent for a full minute before heavy purple eyes leveled on the boy splayed across her floor.

"...Hi."

She just raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry to wake you up."

Sam looked down and her pen began moving rapidly again, in long, looping, scratchy arcs.

"What... What are you writing?"

"Journal," she stated simply, without ceasing her writing. "I'm pretty sure Danny wouldn't wake me up at 3 am unless it was important, so either this is a really weird dream and the entry won't be here when I wake up, or you need to start talking." She looked back up at him expectantly.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"You said that already."

Danny sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees. "You wanted to know what was up with me." It was suddenly very hard to meet Sam's gaze. How the hell was he supposed to start this conversation?

 _"You could start at the beginning,"_ the voice offered helpfully.

"You stay out of this!" came the grumbled response.

"...Did you seriously come here just to tell you don't want to talk about it?"

His attention snapped back to Sam. "No, no, sorry, that was addressed to... Him."

She frowned and began writing again.

Danny sighed and brought his hands up to rub at his eyes. "Sam, you're not dreaming. Please, just, let me start over... Do you remember Monday morning?"

After a moment's hesitation, she set the dream journal aside. "Sure. You nearly broke your neck and then spent half the day staring off into space."

"Yeah, well... I've been having these... Lapses, I guess you'd call them. Like, I'll be walking along, and suddenly I realize I have no idea how I got there. I'll never remember anything, either. And... They're getting worse." His heart was pounding again, although Danny suspected it had nothing to do with physical exertion. He could see Sam was fully awake now, the concern in her expression having only grown as he had spoken.

"How bad are we talking here?"

"Yesterday, or Tuesday or whatever, I walked out the front door, and next thing I know I'm standing next to you out front of the Stationary Hut. Then earlier, Wednesday, I don't even really remember waking up. I just... Appeared at school that morning."

He took a deep breath. This was the scariest one to admit to. The one he himself was still trying to wrap his head around. "And... You know when I went to the bathroom at lunch?"

"Sure. Do you not remember what you did in there? Because that wouldn't be too bad, right?" She tried to smile, but it failed horribly. The lightness of tone was buried under the obvious implications.

"No, but... I don't remember anything after that. Not until I woke up about 20 minutes ago."

Sam's jaw dropped. On the one hand, Danny felt horrible for worrying her like this, but on the other hand...

 _"No, talking is healthy. I mean, your timing needs work, but..."_

"Again, would you _shut up?_ "

"Danny, I didn't say anything!" It sounded like worry was about to give way to panic. Another pang of guilt hit when Danny realized he probably sounded like he was losing his mind. If he had been in Sam's position, he would have been panicking already.

"I know, I know, sorry I sound so crazy right now..."

"Will you stop apologizing? This could be really serious!"

"Right, sorr— I mean, yeah. It could. That's the other thing." He flopped back down onto the soft carpet. The soft orange glow from the window played across the stucco ceiling, leaving little trails of shadow among the peaks and valleys. It looked like a mountain range viewed from above.

"After the portal accident, I've... had a ghost."

Silence followed, punctuated only the engine of a car speeding down the empty street below. Its headlights briefly overwhelmed the streetlights and sent a patch of bright light washing over the mountains.

"...Sam, please say something."

"What... Do you mean, 'I've had a ghost'?"

Right. That could have been worded better. "I mean, there's a ghost that talks to me, and—"

"Wait, like an actual ghost? Like, a floating dead person that can go through walls? Why can't I see it?" Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her quickly glancing around the room.

"Well, it's in my head."

 _"You do know you sound crazy again, right?"_

"You're not helping."

 _"Neither are you, you said that one out loud, too."_

Danny bit back a curse. "Look, I know how it sounds..."

"Danny, that sounds really... Are you sure you aren't imagining it? You really got knocked around on Monday."

He took a deep breath and sat up again, holding his right arm in front of him. He wracked his brain searching for the memory of the bathroom incident, to his recollection not even half an hour beforehand. It was a buzz, he knew that much. Almost like he had been lying down on his arm. There was also the chill. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew he could still feel that... Sensation. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

Suddenly, in his mind, he could see a glint of blue. It glimmered a soft aquamarine, like the sun shining on the calming, sparkling waters at some Caribbean resort in a TV commercial. Off to the right side, there was another smaller spark; a frantic, urgent shade of peridot, flitting slightly back and forth in a frenzy. To his mind, the light felt like a cold buzz. It had to be what he was looking for...

As he reached out for it, it seemed to jump the gap, suddenly arcing into his arm.

Danny opened his eyes and saw a familiar spectral glow emanating from his palm. A small orb of swirling green flame, no bigger than a marble, gradually formed and detached from his hand, floating half an inch above it.

 _"Whoa. Nice work champ."_

Danny couldn't help but smile.

Sam was just staring. She got off the bed wordlessly, before closing the gap between the two teens. Danny's smile vanished (and with it, the orb of light) when all she did was hold out a hand toward his face.

She poked him in the chest, and then blinked a few times, sitting down across from him. "So you're really here. And not dead."

In spite of himself, he chuckled. "Heh, yeah. I really am."

He felt a sudden warmth rush over him, causing him to shiver slightly. The energy he had felt a moment ago was now long gone, replaced by a deep tiredness.

 _"Oh, yeah. We kinda forgot what comes after an adrenaline rush, huh?"_

His arms and legs felt like lead. Danny realized he probably wasn't going to be running home anytime soon.

"Uh, hey, Sam?"

"...yeah?"

"Would you mind if I crashed here tonight?"

"...And risk causing a scandal? Of course you can."

They shared a grin before Sam got up and moved to the closet. Reaching for the top shelf, she produced a frilly pink pillow and blanket and threw them at Danny from across the room. At his inquisitive look, she just shook her head. "Don't ask."

Even though the bedding smelled powerfully of lilacs, Danny had rarely ever slept better. The world could wait until the dawn.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _I am glad that reception of chapters 5 and 6 was mostly positive, even if it was a bit confusing. To answer GhostAnn's question from earlier; yes, Sam (and, spoiler warning, Tucker as well)_ will _be finding out about the ghost._

 _Otherwise, there is little to report. This chapter is a bit shorter than more recent ones. It just worked out that way, I suppose. I did not want to needlessly tack on the events of the morning when I feel as though this was a good stopping point. Hopefully, you agree._


	8. Chapter 8

The next thing Danny knew, his alarm clock was blaring.

A hand slammed down on the top of the clock, expecting to silence its shrill cries. Surprisingly, it instead hit the soft carpet with a dull _thud_. The tactile surprise was enough to get Danny to actually open his eyes and take in his surroundings. The room was largely decorated with posters for local bands, all doing their best to cover the garish pastel-yellow walls. The furnishings were a comfortable mix of Victorian aesthetics and vintage modernist; he appeared to have fallen asleep with a wrought-iron bed draped in red on one side, and a sleek molded plywood desk on the other.

The smell, somewhat akin to being dragged by the nostrils through a florist, doubly confirmed that he was not in his own bedroom. He threw off the flowery blanket and stumbled to his feet. Sam stirred behind him and silenced the alarm.

"Mornin' Danny."

"You sure? What time is it?"

"6 o'clock."

Danny groaned and fell into the desk chair. "I thought you got up at 7."

"Yeah, during the _summer_. I'd like to see you go for a morning jog and still be ready for school in under two hours."

"You're the weirdest teenager I know, you know that right?"

"And what, you're one to talk?" She shot him a dubious look before moving to the window, grabbing the rope ladder for emphasis. "In case you forgot Danny, last night you woke me up at 3 in the morning to tell me you had a ghost living inside you that lets you control fire." She didn't sound overly upset about it, though; he thought he could even see a smile on her face. At least _somebody_ was enjoying this...

"That's actually not the only thing—"

At the sound of sharp footsteps, Danny shut up. A sugary "Good morning, Sammykins!" accompanied the clack of heels against hardwood, getting closer to the door.

He cursed under his breath. Time for his next trick. 'Hey, dude, we've got a parent inbound. Could I uh, get a little help? _Hello?_ '

 _"Bwuh-? Wha... What time is it?"_

'Oh for... Nevermind.' It looked like he was on his own for this. How had invisibility worked again? At the time it had felt like falling into cold water, the sensation of being dragged under, mingling paradoxically with the weightless feeling of being yanked upward. Danny had been reminded of falling through the ice on Lake Eerie several years ago.

 _He had kicked and kicked with all his might, but he had been soaked completely with the icy liquid. It was impossible to fight against the weight of water-logged clothing, especially when every clawing attempt to clamber back onto the ice just resulted in more of it cracking and breaking under his weight, sending him falling once more into the frigid depths. It felt like he was freezing and burning at the same time, his cries becoming more desperate and strangled as his lungs struggled to get air. He had nearly gone under completely when he felt arms loop under his shoulders and pull him sharply back from the abyss._ The memory sent a chill running up his spine and he was wracked with shivering. Danny hadn't quite recovered from the cold tightness in his chest before the door swung open.

Before he could say a word, Sam had stepped between him and the door and shouted out, "Mom, I can explain!"

The woman's cheery smile dropped as she stepped over the threshold. "Explain what, Samantha? Are you not going jogging this morning?"

Danny caught Sam's horrified expression as she whipped around to look at him, and ended up staring straight past him. "I... What? Where...?" She turned back to face her mother in confusion.

He was about to speak in his defense when a quick glance to ensure he was decent returned no results. His pajamaed form was almost completely absent from his field of view, aside from a pair of suspicious foot-shaped indents in the carpeting.

Pamela Manson walked over to her daughter, her clicking footfall masked by the change of flooring. She placed the back of her hand against the teen's forehead and frowned slightly. "Hmm, you aren't feverish... Were you having a bad dream Sammy?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I was. It's fine now."

Her mother apparently missed the tension in Sam's voice. She smiled again. "Well then you silly goose, I'll see you when you get back! I'm making vegan waffles for breakfast."

After she had left the room, Danny let out a long breath. He hadn't dared to move or breath until the door was closed; when he spoke, it was in a whisper. "Wow, Sam, what time do your _parents_ wake up?"

Sam yelped and jumped away from him. "Dude! Are you still here? Are you _invisible_?"

Danny willed his body to let the cold feeling drain out of him, and he faded back to visibility with a smirk. "Yes and yes! As I was going to say, I can also do that. I mean, I didn't know I could control it myself before just now, but I guess with the right motivation..."

She smiled back. "Cool. So if you weren't controlling it, how'd you do it before?"

"Oh, uh. The ghost controlled it the first time."

 _"Would you drop the_ 'it' _and_ 'the ghost' _stuff? I have a name y'know."_

He frowned. 'Nice of you to join us.'

 _"Don't complain, you just said you had needed the motivation. Really, you should be thanking me for not doing anything."_

'OK, OK, fine! But I still don't feel like telling Sam that I'm "part dead", whatever that means, and that you're—' They both felt the tap on his shoulder.

"Uh, Danny? Hello?"

"Oh, sorry. I was... Talking. To the ghost." That earned him a tilted head and an odd look. "...it's weird to describe, but we communicate telepathically, I guess? I don't know what you call it when it's all in your own head."

"I think they usually call it 'schizophrenia'." She said it with an annoying smirk that Danny couldn't return.

"Hardy har har. It's a bit less funny when you're the one running around with a voice in your head insisting you aren't crazy."

"Speaking of running, I _am_ going for that jog. And you should probably get home before your parents notice you snuck out in the middle of the night."

Ah, right. That small detail. "Ugh, I nearly forgot. Time to test out the whole 'pass invisibly through walls' thing, I guess."

Sam winked. "Good luck, ghost boy."

* * *

The teens walked downstairs, one invisible, and the other opening all the doors as they went to avoid arousing suspicion. Sam turned north with a wave, jogging to the park, while Danny was left to make his way back home as quickly and quietly as possible.

 _"Nothing like jogging a mile and a half early in the morning, eh champ?"_

Danny snorted, on a, fortunately, empty sidewalk. 'Yeah, I'm like a poster boy for health and wellness right now. Bruised, battered, and sleep deprived.'

 _"What, are you still sore from Monday?"_

'...why, are you concerned?'

 _"Do you always deflect questions with other questions? Oh hey, I can do it too!"_

The next few blocks passed in silence. It wasn't a bad morning for a jog, all things considered. The world around Danny was still waking up; he didn't see a single car on the road until he arrived at the main road connecting downtown Amity Park and the suburban hinterlands beyond his neighborhood. Despite the early hour, dozens of motorists were already making their daily pilgrimages down the busy street.

 _"Don't bother waiting to cross here onto Fremont, just take 11th St. west until you manage to catch a walk signal."_

'That was the plan, thanks.'

 _"...you know, I_ am _concerned. Believe it or not, I do have your best interests at heart. Not least of all because they're my interests, too."_

'You're doing that thing again, I asked you that like 5 minutes ago. But... Thanks. For real.' Danny mulled over a response of his own for a moment. He had taken a lot of hits in the past week. Really, he should have been feeling worse. As it was, surprisingly, he just felt a bit stiff. Heavy, almost, like his arms were made of lead. 'And I guess I do feel a bit better today. I haven't had like _stabbing_ pains since yesterday morning, as far as I know.'

 _"Hmm."_

'..."Hmm"?'

 _"Oh, nevermind. Could be nothing."_

Danny knew better than the press the issue. From just a few days' experience, he had a feeling that the less he asked, the sooner his ghost would want to tell him, and so he made a point of letting the next minutes pass in relative silence. The sounds of traffic receded as he reached his street, replaced with the familiar sounds of the quiet neighborhood. A dog barking in a backyard, the chitter-chatter of finches and sparrows, and the wary cooing of a mourning dove as Danny ran unseen past its perch. Soon, he was in front of Fentonworks, twisting the door knob.

He deflated slightly, with a sigh.

 _"They locked the door this morning, didn't they?"_

'Yep.'

 _"And you didn't bring your keys with you last night."_

'Nope.'

The ghost let out a sigh of his own. _"Fine. Welcome to Walking Through Walls 101, I'll be your instructor, Danny Fenton. Now pay attention."_

A breeze blew over Danny, and for a moment it felt like his atoms had been scattered to the four winds. He supposed he should have screamed, but that required lungs, vocal cords, and a hundred other things he didn't have. Time slowed before any sense of perception or coherent thoughts simply stopped; the outside world ceased to be and he fell into a pit of featureless gray. Here, Danny didn't exist. Unthinking, unfeeling, he had become an unperson, redacted from the world.

It would have been impossible to say how long he spent sealed in this cave, cut off from reality. It reminded Danny of something in a book he had once read. Although... What was a book? Who was this Danny person, and how had he "read" something?

Answers began to appear to his questions. He was Danny. Books were worldly objects. Reading was an activity. He could _feel_ a soft buzz as other memories came back to him— the color red, the sound of a dove's call, the smell of car exhaust in a summer morning, the feeling of elation— before the dam burst and the trickle turned into a roaring flood of awareness. Danny blinked, and he was standing on his stoop again. His senses had returned, although the feeling of standing invisibly on the concrete was dulled somewhat by the persisting weightlessness of his body.

 _"You OK there champ?"_

Danny gave his head a shake. '...Yeah, I'm good. That was... That was different.'

 _"Oh, yeah. I meant to mention, going intangible may have_ slightly _cut off your brain from your body for a moment or two. It probably won't happen again. ...probably."_

'You have a really bad habit of not telling me these things, you know that?'

 _"Hey, who cares! We're invisible_ and _intangible now. Cool, right?"_ In spite of himself, Danny shared his ghost's grin. _"Well, go on, let's get inside."_

He hesitated before the door. It was one thing to be told you were able to pass through solid objects, and quite another to actually try it at a walking pace. Danny slowly moved his unseen hand to push against the door and didn't feel a thing even when it should have connected several inches earlier. Well, if that worked, time for the next step.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and walked forward. Nothing happened.

 _"You can open your eyes any time now, it went just fine."_ The voice sounded vaguely hurt, presumably at Danny's distrust. With a sharp exhale, he opened his eyes; they were inside his living room. Danny whipped around, verifying that the front door was still shut and locked behind him.

"Huh. I guess it did."

Danny froze at the sound of footsteps before Jazz appeared at the kitchen doorway. "Danny? Are you up?" She sounded groggy and apparently didn't see him. That was good.

 _"You would make the worst burglar in the world."_

'Hey, come on, at least I didn't puke or try to set the school on fire this time.'

 _"Fair enough. Now, do you want to get upstairs before Jazz decides to check if you're still in bed?"_

'Do you think she's that worried?' For her part, Jazz stood sleepily on the threshold of the living room for a moment longer, before crossing over toward the stairs. 'Damn...'

He tiptoed as quickly as he could up the stairs ahead of her, dodging the squeaky steps and then half-running through the hallway above. In spite of himself, Danny still closed his eyes while passing through the wall into his bedroom, where he let himself fade back into visibility as his ghost half lead their body back to corporeality.

He had barely managed to dive under the covers of his bed before he heard the squeak of a floorboard right outside his door, which slowly opened just a crack. A few seconds passed before, apparently convinced Danny's still form was asleep, Jazz shut the door quietly and footsteps moved back down the hallway. A few seconds more and Danny sat up in bed. His alarm clock indicated that it was now 6:43.

'I guess I got away with it.'

 _"Yeah, I guess so. Who would have guessed it would be so easy to sneak in and out of the house when you have ghost powers?"_

Danny didn't miss the sarcasm. 'I mean, you say that, but we're maybe 25 feet above Amity Park's best ghost researchers.'

 _"Amity Park's_ only _ghost researchers."_

'...well, technically I'm doing ghost research now.' Danny got up and grabbed a book from his desk. He held it in one hand and pressed his other against the cool cover. 'I mean, it's a bit more direct research than my parents do, but still...' He concentrated on finding that breezy feeling again, trying to imagine it blowing over just his right arm. To his great relief, when the hand did finally slip through the warmth of the book and came out the other side, he remained conscious the whole time.

 _"See, you're a natural. Nothing messed up happened to your head this time?"_

'Nope! Which is good, because if passing through stuff meant living out a Harlan Ellison story every time, I probably just... wouldn't. Ever again.'

 _"I actually have a theory about that_ — _"_

'This had better not be another literary theory. Because if you try to explain the symbolism of the sniper lighting a cigarette to me one more time, I _will_ find a way to hit you.'

 _"No, no, the other thing. About why you didn't go all Plato's Cave this time."_

'Plato's what now?'

 _"Not important. Anyway, I have a theory about your control over these powers. I've been thinking it over since yesterday, actually,"_ The ghost took a moment to gather its thoughts, _"and I think I know why you've been recovering so well from your injuries."_

'Yeah?'

 _"Yeah. You haven't been in pain because of your injuries. You may not have even been injured."_

'...that makes literally no sense.'

 _"Haven't you noticed how patchy the recovery process has been? Why would your legs be fine after a day, but everything else was still stiff on day four? It just doesn't make any sense if you were recovering from actual physical harm. So, what else would it be?"_

'I feel like you're fishing for something, but I'm too tired to play along right now.'

The ghost gave a mental eye-roll. _"You've got a nerve problem."_ At the silence, he continued. _"I think your nervous system got all messed up in the accident. Like your body and our brain aren't quite hooked up right, now that your friendly ghost half is on the scene."_

'OK, let's say you're right.' Danny began pacing.

 _"I am right."_

'...sure. So, is there some kind of way to fast track the process? Because if I'm already healed up I'd love to stop feeling like I fell down the stairs.'

 _"I'm glad you asked. It seems like every time we do something ghostly, your nerves sort themselves out. It explains everything, like why you're in less pain now, why you're getting better at controlling our powers_ — _"_

'That's great, but it doesn't explain why my nerves would have been messed up in the first place. Wouldn't I have been paralyzed or something if that was true?'

 _"How should I know? I'm not a doctor, remember?"_

'Terrific. So I guess we just keep taking stabs in the dark and doing ghost stuff until I feel better, then?"

His ghostly partner was about to respond when the door burst open; he yelped and fell back onto his bed.

"DANNY! Great, you're up!" His parents filled the doorway, his dad looking more excited than Danny had seen him in weeks, while his mother was frowning and staring at a readout on some complicated piece of equipment.

"We've got good news, son! Your mother and I were working in the lab—"

"—and about 5 minutes ago, the tracking equipment just picked up its first ghost since we turned on the portal—"

"—but this was a _big_ one compared to the one it detected on Monday! How powerful did you say it was, Mads?"

"Between that first spike and the second one we registered two minutes ago, it probably could have powered all the lights in the house for an hour. That's not all _that_ much, really—"

"But hey, that was just two spikes! It must be a level 5 at least!" Jack looked like a kid in a candy store. The enthusiasm spread to his mother.

"I can't _wait_ to capture it and put it to use!" She seemed to realize Danny was in the room and smiled at him with just a trace of mania. "So be careful Danny, and if you see any vicious spectral monstrosities, give us a shout!"

"And _we'll_ give it a shot! HA!" And as suddenly as they had arrived, both his parents walked out of his room, talking animatedly. Danny realized a moment later that all the color had drained out of his face, and he had been staring blankly at the wall.

'Or we could hold off on doing more ghost stuff. In here, at least.'

 _"So... This might be a bad time to ask, but when are you planning to tell mom and dad?"_

'I'm... I'm going to have to give that some thought.'

 _"OK, but I'm just saying, don't leave this too long or it'll be weird."_

'And I said I'd think about it!' Danny picked himself up, preemptively deactivated his alarm, and made his way to the door. He'd definitely think about telling his parents. Right after a shower and some breakfast.

 _"Shoes."_

Grumbling, he kicked off his sneakers before making his way out into the hallway.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _Once more, a slightly difficult chapter to write. Being myself a resident of the Lakes region, I have found myself quite unwillingly pulled into the activities surrounding the baseball World Series. Between this and Halloween, ultimately, the only way the chapter got written was by me locking myself away for four hours, putting on LCD Soundsystem's entire catalog, and writing until I hit 3200 words. I shall simply have to get back into my normal routine, I think. Perhaps I can use NaNoWriMo as an excuse to do so._

 _Oh, one last thing. We are drawing near the end of Part 1: What is Left. When this occurs (possibly chapter 11, if all goes to plan) I will take a short break of perhaps a week, do some writing for Part 2, and then hopefully updates will be a bit more steady for that period. That's all for today; do let me know what you think of this chapter. I am always interested to know if my concerns about my writing line up with those of the reader._


	9. Chapter 9

_"Fact 1: You kind of half-died the other day, and now there is a ghost living in your head."_

Danny just closed his eyes and leaned into the shower's warm stream. Ignore him and he'll be quiet... Ignore him and he'll be quiet...

No such luck. _"Fact 2: You have had the excellent fortune that said ghost is I, Daniel J. Fenton, Esquire."_

'What are you doing?'

 _"We need to go over some stuff. It's been a busy couple of days."_

'It was a very busy _night_. Can this wait until after coffee?'

 _"Time and tide wait for no hot beverage! Besides, I hate talking to you about important stuff when we're around other people. You always manage to look like a dork."_

Danny just sighed and turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and continuing with his routine. The ghost took this as invitation enough to continue speaking.

 _"There's something I want to ask you about, but first I want to make sure we're on the same page, you know? I don't want any more secrets between us."_

' _Fine._ You can definitely start by explaining how you're me when _I'm_ me, and I don't seem dead.'

 _"Fact 3: It is apparently possible to be dead and not dead at the same time. Nobody tell the ghost of Schr_ _ö_ _dinger, he'll have a fit."_

'Helpful!'

 _"Look, the honest truth is, I don't know. I told you once that I had all the same memories as you, right? They're kind of muddled, but they're there. Since I don't remember anything else before that whole atom-rending-pain-and-electrocution incident, I can only assume one of two things must be true. Either I'm your ghost and the whole concept of a 'soul' is a lot looser than you think it is, or I'm something else that just_ happens _to act, think, and talk exactly like the ghost of Danny Fenton would. If the end result is the same, does it really matter which is true?"_

'Well, call me old-fashioned, but I'd like to know exactly where I am on the slider from alive to dead. I mean, even saying that still sounds crazy, because before this week I would have assumed that was an "either-or" kind of deal.'

 _"I think that getting an answer to that question is going to end up being a major pain. Like, among other things, it'd probably involve contacting some kind of expert on ghosts. Shame we don't know any that you're willing to talk to."_

Danny groaned. 'Has this entire conversation been entirely about trying to get me to talk to my parents.' At this point, he didn't even have the energy to say it as a question.

 _"Oh, no, I had something way cooler I wanted to mention. Fact 4: Despite not being entirely a ghost, you have access to some pretty sweet ghost powers. There's actually a couple I don't think we've tried yet. So, what's the most obvious thing to do with all this information?"_

'...question the nature of the afterlife?'

 _"...no. That's dumb."_

'Said the one who wanted to have a heart-to-heart conversation before coffee.'

The ghost acted like he hadn't heard that. _"When you have this kind of opportunity, you should do something_ cool _instead of just sneaking in 9 hours after curfew. We could, I dunno, fight crime, or go to space, or help the poor or something. Something fun."_

'You have a weird idea of fun. I mean, you do know that I still have to go to school, right? That's a lot of extra-curricular hours you're suggesting here.'

 _"Just think about it, will you?_ _I want to do something that matters, not just scrape through life._ _"_

* * *

Sam was waiting for Danny when he left Fentonworks. "So how'd it go?"

"Fine, I guess? I had a near miss with Jazz on the way in. The worst part is that my parents noticed the ghost energy or whatever when I phased through the door." At that, he quickly checked that he was carrying his keys before the pair started walking. "They've been down in the basement all morning trying to figure out why they kept detecting more spikes."

"And you think you're causing them?"

"Well, it can't be coincidence, can it?"

They were silent for a moment. A question hung in the air above them as they made their way down the sidewalk.

"Aren't you going to say I should tell my parents everything?"

She shrugged. "Nah. Parents never understand that kind of thing, they'd probably just make a big deal out of it."

 _"That's a rather cynical view. Our parents are scientists. If anything they'd be the_ most _likely to understand our situation."_

Sam continued, "Why, are you thinking of telling them?"

"I'm getting some, uh, mixed advice on that. I... Think I'm going to have to take some time to decide one way or another."

"Hey, it's your life. Or, your after-life. Or half-life. Whatever. But more importantly, when are you going to tell Tucker?"

"Probably at lunch. Although, remember last week when he hid those plastic spiders in my shoes? Well, there's something I kinda want to do _before_ I tell him."

Sam didn't like the look on his face as he said that. She suspected Tucker wouldn't much like it either.

* * *

"Mr. Lancer, sir?"

The teacher stopped writing to turn to face the classroom, chalk in hand. "Yes, Mr... Fenton, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Danny Fenton. May I use the washroom?"

"Go right ahead." The older man returned to writing on the board while lecturing about the finer points of civil war era Irish literature as Danny made his way to the door. Before he left the room, he shot Sam a smile and a wink, which she responded to by raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

 _"Yeah, there's no way she's gonna approve of this one."_

'More importantly, though, there's no way this isn't going to be hilarious.'

As soon as he was outside and in the empty hallway, Danny flickered into invisibility and intangibility and walked right back into the room. By his estimation, he probably only had about 4 minutes before he'd need to get back to class properly, so he'd have to act fast. Danny made a beeline to where Tucker was sitting, sending shivers down a few spines with the cold breeze that followed him as he went.

He started off small. Subtly moving around some of the objects on Tucker's desk, blowing quietly on his papers; the kind of stuff that at most earned a double-take. By the two minute mark, he was ready to up the ante. One or two more pranks, and then he'd call it quits. Tucker fidgeted slightly in his seat as he felt what seemed like a cold finger drag across his forearm. Danny barely suppressed a chuckle as his friend started looking around frantically for the source of the feeling, although he heard a weary sigh from Sam to his right.

What really got a reaction was when a piece of chalk floated off the ledge beneath the board. Everybody in the _room_ noticed when it made contact with the chalkboard; Lancer stopped mid-sentence and spun to look, mouth agape. The unseen hand was writing letters on the board: G, E, T, O, U, and T, over and over again. The assembled students were too shocked to move until a terrifying ghostly wail pierced the quiet.

Over the ensuing screaming, Lancer was shouting at people to run, but Sam just stayed seated with a frown, even as books began to fly off of shelves in the rapidly emptying classroom. "Danny, come on, that's taking it way too far..." When she said it, she wasn't sure where to direct her eye contact. That is until she heard a voice from the doorway.

"Sam! Get out of there!" Danny was shouting at her from out in the hallway, Tucker by his side and both looking equally terrified. Her frown drained almost immediately, overtaken by mingled panic and horror. She ran straight over the desks between her seat and the door, dodging flying books as she went, before joining her friends in the hallway. The door slammed menacingly shut behind her.

The trio didn't stop running until they were halfway down the hallway, throngs of students evacuating the building around them. Somebody had actually pulled the fire alarm, adding piercing alarms to the mix of footsteps and panicked speculation.

"I saw the ghost! It's like eight feet tall and glowed bright red!"

"Did it really kill _everyone_ in that English class?!"

"It's probably just another drama club thing, remember the fake blood they left in the wood shop last year?"

The conversations overlapped each other as the frothing mass that was the student body moved hurriedly to the doors; the three winded students pressed into the alcove didn't feel the need to correct them. Once they had all caught their breath, Danny broke the silence.

"OK, I think it's fair to say the ghost doesn't want us in that room."

Tucker just balked at that. "You _think_? Sam nearly got taken out by a copy of _Pride and Prejudice_! And that was after it was _touching_ me with its creepy dead hands!"

"Uh, Tucker, about that..." Danny rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. This was not _quite_ how he had hoped this would go. "That was actually—"

Sam cut him off. "Save it for later, we need to get your parents over here. If it's on the loose in the school it could hurt somebody, and if anybody can stop that from happening, it'd be them."

He nodded. "Right. OK. Tuck, can your PDA do phone calls?"

The other boy shook his head. "No, it doesn't have a microphone. I _can_ send faxes, though."

"Shame we need to get in touch with Danny's parents and not, I dunno, send an invoice? Who even _uses_ fax anymore?"

Danny raised his hand. "Actually, we do. The ghost report fax line is 326-GHOST-FAX." When both of his friends just stared at him, he felt the need to continue. "Look, they're from the 80s. But we don't have time to wait for faxing, so you two should head to the front office and call them on the phone."

"And where are you in this plan?" It sounded like Sam knew exactly where this was going, but she didn't like it.

"Well," he looked at Tucker. Sam was right, now probably wasn't the time to have a serious conversation. "...I have some ghost hunting stuff my parents sent to school with me. Which I keep... in my locker. Which is back this way. I'll see you later!" He turned and ran before they could argue.

He could hear Tucker shouting, "Are you crazy?!" as he ran back towards the classroom.

Danny just smiled and shouted back, "Let's find out!"

* * *

When he reached the door to Lancer's English classroom, Danny found the knob completely unresponsive. That wasn't the problem it would have been normally, after a quick check of the hallway showed it was currently empty. He reached a hand through the door and popped the lock from inside before the door swung open freely.

The place was a mess. The message "GET OUT" was now written across all three blackboards and some of the other walls as well, with bits of shattered chalk strewn around the room's periphery. That wasn't the extent of it, however. Desks were overturned, the contents of several shelves had been upended, and most of the books in the room were at best lying open on the floor or at worst ripped to pieces. It looked a bit like a tornado had torn through the place, the past tense being important; an eerie calm settled over the scene. When he stepped into the room, the silence was so pervasive it seemed to snuff out the fire alarms still blaring in the hallway outside.

It was either the adrenaline or some ghostly effect, but all Danny could hear right then was the blood moving in his head. When he finally broke the silence, it didn't sound like he was in an empty room. Instead, his voice landed back on his ears heavily, like he was speaking to a wall in a tight closet. "Hello? Are you still in here?"

"Question is short stuff, what's a punk like _you_ doin' in here?" The voice echoed from behind him, startling both of Danny. He jumped back spinning, tripping over a toppled chair and landing in a heap under the blackboard in the process.

When he opened his eyes, the ghost was _not_ , in fact, eight feet tall glowing red, nor did it look like an elaborate hoax from the Drama club, unless the cast of _Grease_ had been rendered gray-scale and translucent. The ghost was dressed up in a leather jacket and jeans, with an absurd blond pompadour and a cigarette tucked behind his ear to complete the image. Menacing charcoal eyes stared down at Danny.

"Real slick, kid. Moves like that, I'm guessin' you ain't with the meathead."

Danny found his tongue and stammered back, "M-meathead?"

"Yeah, you as blind as you are clumsy?" The ghost gestured around the room before sitting on a desk. "Who _else_ would have trashed the smoking room? Buck Martin, pansy-ass quarterback and professional damp rag."

"So you weren't the one who did all this?" Danny got off the floor, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed in a hopefully non-threatening way.

"Are you gonna need to start takin' notes when I talk? _No_ , it _wasn't_ me! But word is there's some kinda new ghost kickin' up here in Casper. Pretty soon Buck starts running his mouth about how he was going to go to the human world to pound the new guy into the dirt and takes off with his heels on fire. Me, I figure hey, any chance to screw with the football dipshits, right? So I follow him."

The ghost paused for a minute to light his cigarette, although it continued to give off no smoke. "Dig this, he flies straight at this green swirlin' thing that popped up maybe a quarter mile from _our_ Casper High, and then he disappears. It looks pretty deadly, so I go in after him and pop out in some kinda lab right in front of these two science types. They don't see me, so 'fore the spooks show up to arrest me, I haul ass outta there and it turns out I'm maybe 5 blocks from the school in your world." He flicked the cigarette butt off to the side, where it disappeared from view. "And since I missed the party, I'm gonna hang here until I figure out how best to lay down the hurt on pea-brain. Any further questions?"

"Uh, no. I just came here to try to deal with whoever trashed my classroom—"

"Whoa, pump your brakes kid, they turned the smoking lounge into a _classroom?_ Where are you supposed to light up in January, out in the cold?"

"Look, do you want help dealing with this Buck guy or not?"

"I don't think I wanna bother, knowin' the school's been taken over by squares."

Danny frowned at that. "Well, _I_ do. Would you at least tell me where he is?"

The greaser scoffed. "Yeah, good luck buckaroo. He's probably in the gym. Looks like the Creature from the Black Lagoon in a letter jacket, you can't miss him." As Danny made his way over to the door, it added, "And if you go ghost when he's done killin' you, swing by and let me know alright? I wanna say 'I told you so.'"

 _"Nothing like a vote of confidence."_

The teen laughed sharply and started running down the hallway. 'Not that we're short on that with you around.'

* * *

Danny could clearly hear activity through the doors to the gym as he approached them. He opened right door as carefully as he could manage, although a loud creak still issued from the hinges, echoing off every wall. When Danny entered the room, it was silent, aside from the sound of a recently dropped basketball bouncing up and down slowly, before rolling to a stop near the wall. Aside from that, there was no sign of the ghost. There was no sign of the Creature from the Black Lagoon, either.

'Dang it, he must have heard that. So much for "can't miss him".'

 _"You know, we could have just phased through the wall silently."_

'...shut up.'

His ghost chuckled. _"World's worst burglar, I'm telling you."_

He didn't get a chance to respond to that. Danny was slammed into from behind by what felt like a freight train; while he was trying to recover, he was gripped tightly and carried into the air, screaming as he went. For a moment, Danny was worried the ghost meant to drop him from the ceiling and seriously hurt him, but it pulled a tight, disorienting turn and flew for the basketball hoop.

"Well, you _definitely_ aren't the one I'm looking for. How about you hang out here for a moment?" The voice was next to his ear as he said it, before the voice's owner shoved Danny into the net with a cackle. "Two points, Ravens!"

When he got a good look at his attacker, Danny couldn't help but think the science fiction comparison had been apt. The ghost was built like Frankenstein crossed with a Charles Atlas after-picture, with short dark hair and stuffed into a Casper High varsity jacket. Much like his peer, Buck was partially see-through and entirely colorless. It was grinning wickedly. "I'll be back for you later, nerd. I've got to go find a ghost and teach it a lesson about haunting on Buck Martin's turf!"

 _"Should we tell him?"_ His ghost seemed concerned about letting the jock leave the gym, as it was now floating toward the wall.

' _No!_ That's the only reason I'm being left _alive_. Besides, the school is empty, what's he going to do?"

Danny blanched when he heard a scream from out in the hallway. Or more accurately, a pair of screams. 'Sam and Tucker!'

 _"...you were saying?"_

'Can you save the snark until _after_ we get down from here?!'

 _"Ah, right. If I may?"_

Danny felt something gently prodding at his body, seemingly from every direction at once. He was momentarily distracted by the strange sensation before he forced himself to relax his muscles, despite his very healthy fear of falling warning him to grab a hold of something and cling on for dear life. Soon, the familiar staticky numbness swept throughout his body, and he was given the impression of looking out from eyes that were not his own. It was a bit like playing Doomed with the Fenton virtual reality helmet, although with considerably better graphical fidelity.

 _"OK, let's do this flight thing. It'll be a first for both of us, I guess. 3... 2... 1... Liftoff!"_ Even through the deadened sensations, Danny felt a certain lightness take over his body. The ghost moved to glide out of the net, hovering in the air just next to the hoop. The human mind could practically feel the buzzing of energy moving through his body with every simple maneuver. _"Are you going to be OK to take over?"_ Danny managed a nod as his body floated softly down from the net's height. He was hovering a few inches off the ground when he very briefly took control over his own movements. He managed to stay upright for all of a second.

In that second, he was hit with a barrage of conflicting sensations, memories, and things which weren't clearly one or the other. He was freezing to death, then he could imagine the taste of the number five, which was replaced with the deafening roar of a crackling fire. The incomprehensible stream of consciousness continued on for what seemed like both an instant and far too long. When it finally crashed to a halt, Danny was back in the gym falling backward. Despite the fact that his eyes were telling him he wasn't moving in the slightest, the feeling was strong enough that he reflexively tried to lean forward.

At that, he pitched forward violently, his head racing to the floor. The ghost had to take the reigns to save them from a bloody nose. _"What was that all about?!"_

'I don't know! The moment you made the hand off I just... Kind of lost it.' The confusing signals had been replaced with the familiar light buzzing, now joined by a hint of lingering seasickness.

 _"It's like you were having some kind of seizure. You weren't making a hell of a lot of sense, but you were loud enough while you were doing it."_ The voice grumbled, clearly unimpressed with the results of Danny's first foray into flight. After a moment's pause, he collected himself and added, _"Well. This presents a problem."_

'You don't say. If that had happened _after_ lunch it wouldn't have been pretty.' As it was, it still felt like his stomach was trying to crawl up his throat and escape through his mouth. 'You might have to do the flying here. Just get us close and I can do the rest.'

 _"That I can do, but let me know if you feel queasy. Or at least... Just warn me if you're about to hurl again, alright? That's not something I want to experience again."_

The pair took off, the ghost deftly banking through the hallways, essentially just bringing the human along for the ride. It was a minute before they heard any sign of Sam or Tucker again, when Danny caught the sound of combat boots stomping down the diverging path as they shot through a 3-way intersection.

'Whoa, back up, I think I heard Sam down there!'

 _"Great, that's 1 of 2."_ The teen skidded to a stop in mid-air, flipping around before taking a sharp turn down the hallway.

With a yelp, Danny grabbed control of his body again, sending them tumbling to the floor; he had very nearly run headlong into a baseball bat that swung low over his head as he dived.

"Danny! Since when can you fly?"

"Since 3 minutes ago, where's Tucker? ...and when did you get a bat?"

"Actually, about 3 minutes ago, when it was thrown at our heads by that dumb ghost. That's when we decided to split up to try to lose it and make sure you were OK." She held out a hand and Danny took it, clambering back to his feet.

"So you were heading down here, where'd Tucker go?"

"I think he said the sciences wing? Let's go grab him and get the hell out of here, this ghost is kinda out of our league."

Danny was about to interject when they heard breaking glass and screaming coming from the floor above them. It sounded suspiciously like...

The two teens shared a look, neither wanting to comment on whose scream that had been. "Sam, I think I'd better go get him out of there myself."

"Wow, you _are_ crazy. You think I'd let you go toe-to-toe with that monster without backup?" She slung the bat off her shoulder and held it in both hands, taking a test swing. "Danny, meet Backup. Not much of a talker, but she loves hitting ghosts in the face."

"Yeah, I noticed. Look, I'll be fine on my own. If he starts throwing beakers or whatever, I can pass straight through them, or turn invisible if he starts shooting fireballs." Before she had a chance to voice the coming objections, he quickly added, "also, when my parents show up... They might want to shoot first and ask questions later. I could use a friend on the ground to keep them off my case."

She frowned at him for a moment before shaking the bat at him like she was scolding a small child. "Alright, but you owe me for this."

* * *

He followed the trail of destruction to the biology lab. He crept invisibly through the hallway and the open door, where he saw Tucker being held up against the ceiling tiles by the neck.

"Come on kiddo, you sure you don't want to just phase outta here? 'cause if you ain't the ghost I'm lookin' for, you must have at least seen it around, am I right?" Buck was grinning wickedly at Tucker, who seemed to be straining to breathe.

"Gah! N-no, I've never seen any ghosts around here! I swear—"

The hulking form narrowed his eyes and tightened its grip on the human's throat. "Then there ain't much reason to keep you around, now is there?"

Danny realized he was going to have to act fast. He dropped his invisibility and prepared to fire at the ghost at a moment's notice. "Hey Sunshine, why don't you, uh... Get the Bass out of here!"

Buck just loosened his grip on Tucker and looked at the intruder in confusion. " _What?_ " was all it managed to ask before a burst of plasma hit it in the chest, sending him and Tucker flying through a nearby wall.

 _"Huh, I kinda figured he would've dropped Tucker."_

'That _was_ the plan, yeah. Time to improvise, I guess.'

Danny took off at a run, heading straight for the wall. Just before the collision, he jumped and handed off control to his ghost, who took them flying out through the brickwork. The pair deftly dodged the first few ghost rays fired from above, where Buck and a panicking Tucker were hanging in midair at least 60 feet above the school.

As Danny approached the hail of fire stopped, and he soon saw why. Buck was holding Tucker's midsection with one arm, while the other hand was aiming an orb of glowing plasma straight at the boy's head; he had his evil grin back. "So, _you're_ the ghost kid Poindexter was tellin' us about. Well, I can see you care about this nerd, so how's about this. I'm feeling generous. I'll let you kill the kid if you make tracks and never come back to Casper High. This is _my_ haunt, capiche?"

"Is that _seriously_ what you think I want to do?! That kid is my friend, and if you don't hand him over right now—"

"HALT, SPOOKS!" The already booming voice was only magnified by the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle, which was currently a block away racing for the school. Danny guessed his dad was driving, as it was currently on the wrong side of the road and going several miles per hour over the speed limit.

Buck showed his surprise much more plainly, losing his grip on Tucker. Danny's ghost took off like a shot to catch his falling friend; it grabbed Tucker around the waist, and only barely slowed down their descent before they hit the roof. Once he was sure the two of them weren't visible to the crowd below, Danny took back control of his body and hopped to his feet. A pair of angry gray eyes focused on him as the jock lined up for another attack, when the three were all distracted by screeching brakes from below.

The RV was coming to a stop on the wrong side of the curb, sitting half on the sidewalk and half on the small lawn in front of the school. It had barely come to a complete stop when the passenger side door slammed open and a battle-ready Maddie Fenton leaped out, holding what looked alarmingly like a high-tech rocket launcher over one shoulder.

Before the specter had a chance to react, she had fired; an enormous electrified net flew right by as he dodged to the right, before being forced back left to avoid a salvo of laser fire from the RV's roof-mounted turrets.

"Saved by the bell, but watch it pal. This ain't over." The ghost fired a venomous look back at Danny (who returned a smile and a friendly wave), before tearing off into the distance.

As the RV's engine rumbled away in pursuit, Danny realized Tucker was staring at him, slack-jawed in shock.

* * *

"Hey, Tuck."

No response.

"So, uh. You probably have some questions."

"Yeah. 'Get the Bass out of here'? What was _that_ supposed to be?"

"I was trying to come up with a football reference, but the only quarterback I could think of was the guy from Remember the Titans." When all he got in response was a raised eyebrow, he shot back with, "I didn't really think it through, there was kind of more important things to worry about! And on that note, is that seriously what you want to ask right now?"

"Uh, no." The teen shifted awkwardly, unsure of how to phrase his question. In the end, he settled on the direct approach. "Are you... Dead?"

"...what? No, of course not!"

"Well excuse me, it's not like normal people can just fly or shoot plasma!"

 _"I take exception to that."_

"I'm _still_ _people_! ...I mean, _a person_! I'm only maybe a little bit dead."

"Dude, that really doesn't seem better. Shouldn't you be going to a... Hospital, or something?"

"Yeah, Tucker, I'm sure developing ghost powers is the kind of thing that happens to loads of teenagers. You probably just get a shot in the arm," he ignored Tucker's cringe, "and then they send you home with antibiotics."

"You know what I mean! Come on man, what if there's something seriously wrong with you?"

"There _is_ , but that's really not the point right now—"

"I dunno man, if it's 'seriously wrong' it just _might_ be relevant."

"...fine. After the accident, I wasn't actually able to do any crazy supernatural stuff. What I did have was a ghost in my head that talks to me, and I've basically been learning how to control these powers by following its- _his_ , lead. And occasionally I'll say and do stuff like normal, but I won't remember any of it later, and neither of us knows why that's happening."

"So that's why you've been acting like such a weirdo lately?"

"Thanks, Tucker."

"Hey, I'm just saying. If you're messed up in the head you should probably try to find out more. As far as I know you're the only person who's ever been 'a little bit dead' so maybe your memory problems don't even have anything to do with this ghost of yours. Maybe it's like brain damage or something."

"Sure, but who could I talk to about it? I'm pretty sure any neurologist I could ask would either believe me, and I'd get shipped off to some government lab, or they'll think I was crazy and I'd get locked up in a padded room. That's sort of lose-lose for me."

"What about your sister?"

"What _about_ her?"

"Well, she knows a lot about psychology. That's all brain stuff, right? So she's _basically_ a neurologist."

"I really don't think that's how that works..."

Tucker just shrugged and put on an easy smile. "Well, what's the worst that could happen?"

Danny moaned in exasperation. "Ugh, you know I hate it when you ask me that."

"It's just a question, Danny. 'How are you feeling?' doesn't _have_ to be a mental health thing." Jazz crossed her arms. It seemed she had much the same opinion of his deflecting.

"Was it _meant_ as a mental health thing, Jazz?"

"...yes, but my point still stands."

Danny sighed and paced idly back and forth in front of Jazz's window. This brought to the fore the fact that he was now in Jazz's bedroom; not a good sign at the best of times, but doubly so when he wasn't sure how he got there from his conversation with Tucker. Which brought up another good point... 'Hey, it kind of happened again. Quick check, did we get Tucker off the roof before we left?'

 _"I think we're good to go. Worst case scenario the fire department could get him down, although there might be some awkward questions that way."_

'Were you seriously not paying attention either?'

 _"Oh, I was, but you know me. I love to keep you guessing."_ He felt the spirit recede in a fit of cackling laughter.

"So, Danny, are you going to tell me what's up, or are you just going to stand there scowling at the wall?"

"...sorry. I kinda spaced out there." He stopped pacing to drop onto Jazz's chaise lounge. Danny had never been entirely clear if she ever sat in it herself, or if it was placed here by a budding psychoanalyst for just such an emergency.

"Honestly, I'm not doing so great. There's, uh... There's been a lot on my mind lately. And I've been getting really easily distracted, I guess you'd say. Spacing out a lot, you know?"

She took a seat on her bed and just nodded.

"...I don't even know who I'd talk to about this kind of thing. Or even what _it_ is, really."

"You know, you can always talk to me about it. A lot of people find high school stressful, and what you're describing sounds a lot like the stuff I went through two years ago, believe it or not."

Danny didn't, but he kept that opinion to himself.

 _"Come on, at least hear her out. Even if she has some nugget of wisdom about the ninth grade, that's something, right?"_

"I... Guess so. It just seems like there's so much going on. How do you handle having so much on your plate at once?"

"Well, what worked for me was realizing that a chaotic brain is an unproductive one. You've got to organize your thoughts, basically." Jazz paused briefly, considering her options. When she found the one she was looking for, she snapped her fingers and looked at him intently. "Have you considered meditation?"

He had not. Danny wasn't entirely sure what he had expected, but it hadn't been that. 'Is that even a serious suggestion?'

 _"Hey, you know what they say champ. Nothing ventured..."_

* * *

Author's Note:

 _I hope you find this chapter worth the wait. I found it a rather tough one to write,_ _to_ _which_ _the_ _several discarded drafts on the cutting room floor can attest_ _. It is still not perfect of course, but as is the zeitgeist of November, I try not to let the perfect become enemy to the good. And if it is fine with you, I wish to address a question that has come up a few times;_

 _Q: "Is this a tragedy?" -Animallover (paraphrased)_

 _A:_ _I do not believe so._ _W_ _hile not a "comedy"_ _per se_ _, I am seeking to maintain a certain lightness of tone._ _It is intended_ _to be_ _an adventure and a mystery_ _, not the sort of story that requires a hug and a Xanax to recover from, as a friend of mine would put it. I hope that answers your question, and_ _my sincere thanks_ _to all the readers (yes, you) for_ _reading, and for_ _the feedback via PM and reviews._ _Quite i_ _n spite of myself, I_ _still_ _grin like an idiot every time I read the e-mails._

09/11/2016, edited to change "mediation" to "meditation". Thank you for catching that.


	10. Chapter 10

Danny leaned back in the squeaky chair, watching the spinning icon idly as the computer shut down. It was 1:59 pm on a Thursday, but instead of sitting in school writing notes he'd never read, he was in his family's basement. The damage to the school was mostly superficial, but the circumstances being what they were, classes had been canceled and it wasn't clear when they would resume.

Moments ago, he had logged on to his instant messaging account with a practiced flourish to find both his friends trying to get in touch with him. After assuring them that he was still alive, and confirming that he hadn't left Tucker on the roof, the trio had made plans to meet at the park in half an hour to talk things through; Danny didn't want to linger in the basement for long. His parents weren't home yet, but he suspected they would likely have a million questions he either couldn't or wouldn't want to answer.

When the computer finally powered down with a low _Whirrr..._ of stopping fans, he was left staring at himself. Aside from the distortion from the curved CRT, he looked the same as always. For some reason, that struck him as odd. Same old Danny Fenton. Same messy hair, same bright eyes, same everything. And why was that a problem?

He answered his own question. 'Because nothing else is the same.'

 _"The same as what, champ?"_ The voice sounded sleepy as if his ghost had been napping in the back of Danny's mind.

'Oh, it's nothing.'

He felt the sigh more than he heard it. _"That barely works on other people, and you think it's going to work on yourself?"_

Danny frowned. 'I guess it's just... Why do I look the same? Why does this basement still look like it did a week ago? It almost seems... _Unreal_ somehow, you know? It's like this isn't really my life, and I'm intruding in on some Danny's world that _didn't_ get incredibly complicated a couple days ago.'

 _"What, you were expecting to grow an extra head, maybe some horns, and that you'd wake up in a Romanian crypt next to Dracula?"_

'And you wonder why I don't talk with you more often.'

 _"...sorry. So things seem a little bit weird in your life right now. That's fair, but is it really a problem? You probably just need to get used to it."_

'That's what I'm afraid of, that I _will_ get used to it. I feel like I'm losing control over my own body. Or my mind, or my life, or whatever it is.'

 _"So you're worried you're losing it."_

'Yeah, what you said, but not sarcastic.'

 _"Do you want my advice?"_

'That's a rhetorical question, isn't it?'

 _"The 'sameness' is bothering you, but you're also expecting things to be the same. It's like you still half expect to wake up any moment now, and don't bother trying to deny it."_ He paused for a moment to verify the human wasn't going to do so. _"My advice is, stop trying to force things to be the same when_ clearly _they aren't. You're half ghost now, so the only way you're going to feel normal again is if you come to terms with that. It's your_ new _'normal', champ. Embrace it."_

Danny just kept staring blankly forward, deep in thought. When he realized what he was doing, he spun around to face the wall behind him instead of the black mirror.

When he spoke again, the voice sounded nervous. _"Have you thought at all about what I suggested this morning?"_

* * *

He never did answer the question. After a few further minutes of sitting in silence, Danny sighed and heaved himself out of the chair, heading for the stairs. Halfway there, a door slammed shut and his steps were joined by two other sets of feet, rushing toward the kitchen from the living room. In a panic, Danny willed himself invisible and pressed up against the wall of the lab, just as the door flew open above him.

"Jack, you don't need to help me down the stairs! I'll hold onto the railing, you just get the sample down in one piece without breaking your neck."

"Just don't be a hero twice in one day Mads! I'll get this fella in containment and be right back."

His dad thundered down the stairs and past Danny, with a ghost slung over his shoulders in a firefighter's carry. It looked like Buck from the high school, although it was hard to tell. The spectral jock glowed dimly and wasn't moving at all. It was hard to tell if he was dead or unconscious; Danny suspected the latter, as his father tossed the captive unceremoniously into the lab's disused containment tank.

A thump and a sharp cry of pain got the attention of both Fentons. Looking to his left, Danny could see his mother wincing in pain from the floor near the stairs, and letting forth a few choice words he had never heard his parents use in front of him before.

"Maddie!" She staggered to her feet, the stream of profanity slowing to a trickle as Jack ran to her side and looped her arm around his neck for support. The pair made their way over to a sturdy stool at the counter.

Danny's mother set herself down gingerly, a pained expression visible behind closed eyes when she tore off her hood and goggles. "Thanks, dear."

"You've really got to be more careful, sweet pea, I think you're going to need a stitch..."

Dark blood was oozing its way slowly down her leg from what looked like a hastily bandaged injury, but in her relatively relaxing seated position, she didn't seem bothered by it. "Jack honey, like I told you on the drive home, after childbirth a little gash on the leg is nothing."

The man regarded his wife with a smile and a sparkle in his eye for a moment that Danny couldn't decide if he found more sappy or concerning. "I wonder if they're all going to be that tough to take down, or if we just got lucky and got a strong one for our first real catch?" Jack asked the question lightly to change the topic, as he popped open a first aid kit and started fishing around inside it.

"Hmm. Well, so far today we've detected three distinct ecto-signatures, and I believe this is that level 6 we saw this morning between the two level 5s. I don't want to call it luck, bu—" The word dissolved into a sharp inhale through her teeth as Jack removed the bandage over the wound. He mumbled an apology and she exhaled slowly before continuing. "...but this does leave us with only the weaker ghosts to worry about. Perhaps this evening, we could probaaaaaaahhhhhh-! God _damn_ it!" Her eyes were screwed shut while Jack pulled what looked like a splinter of wood the size of Danny's thumb from the wound with a pair of forceps.

Did they do this often? Because from his mother's short puffing breathing and the practiced motions with which his father was now applying antiseptic, they seemed oddly at ease in this situation. Danny was fighting back the urge to faint and reflecting on those "couple's retreats" his parents had gone on throughout his childhood in a new light.

Jack spoke so softly it barely sounded like the same man. "You OK there Mads? Maybe we should stay in tonight, you should keep off this leg for at least a day."

She nodded curtly. "Yeah. You may be right."

The man was back to grinning as he applied what looked like some kind of tape, pulling the wound shut. "Hey, look at it this way, if we stay in we can spend the night putting that thing through the trial of its afterlife! And maybe that 'Inviso-Bill' spook that gave us the slip at the high school will try to rescue its friend, and we can capture it too!"

'...they aren't seriously talking about me, are they?' The whole situation was unreal. It was like it was a dream, or happening distantly with Danny merely acting as an observer.

 _"Uh. Look at the bright side, at least they don't know it was you they saw?"_

"And _then_ we'd have two ghosts to rip apart! I can hardly wait to see what really makes these things tick!"

Maddie smiled back at last and added. "It's a date, mister. But maybe let me do the dissection. We want to keep the ripping to a minimum, hon."

 _"I will just take this opportunity to add that you really should tell them you're part ghost before that conversation gets_ **really** _awkward."_

'That's not really what's bothering me, it's just... "Inviso-Bill"? _Really?_ '

The ghost sighed.

* * *

"Yep, that's a pretty stupid name," Tucker observed blandly. It was 2:31 and they were still waiting for Sam to show up, despite the fact that the empty park they were in was two blocks from her house.

"I know, right?"

"On the flip side, have you come up with a better name?" Danny gave his friend a questioning look. "For your super hero identity."

" _Why_ would you assume I'm a super hero now? I'm still just Danny Fenton."

"Come on dude, you fight ghosts, you can fly, apparently you can shoot fireballs; pretty sure you've gotta be a super hero now. It's the law or something."

Danny slumped back as far as the bench would allow until he found himself staring at the sky. He repeated, "I'm still just Danny Fenton," more to himself than Tucker.

When Tucker didn't say anything, he turned his head to face his friend.

He was sitting alone on the bench.

* * *

Something seemed wrong. Somebody was poking us, but Danny wasn't doing anything about it. With a mental stretch, I decided to check in on him. That was when I realized something was _definitely_ wrong. We were staring blankly up at the sky, arms slumped lifelessly at our sides.

Worse yet, there was no sign of human Danny. That half of our mind was just a blank. Like fine static. A dial tone. Zilch, nada, nichts. As far as I knew one half of a mind can't just decide to _check out_ like this. It should have killed our body for good, but there we were, beating heart, breathing lungs, now being shaken lightly by Tucker. I guessed it was just going to have to be one more thing to add to the "Things that should have killed me" list.

What is a man? About 110 pounds of mostly water, if you look at the science. A lot goes into slinging that weight around in a straight line, which I deeply appreciated from the grassy floor of the park. To stop Tucker from completely panicking I had planned to stand the body up, slipping snugly into the bones, cartilage, and muscles that made up Danny Fenton. I pushed off from the bench and tried to hold everything upright, but gravity was having none of it. I was thoroughly lost on how to get back up until Tucker grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me to my feet.

His mouth was moving and he looked terrified. His eyes, inches from my own, were searching me frantically, but I would have to take this one thing at a time. I experimentally flexed the muscles in the calf, then the ones in the thigh, then the _other_ muscles in the thigh, and finally tensed up pretty much everything in the torso. It seemed more or less like what Danny did regularly, and I knew it worked when Tucker let me go and I remained mostly upright. Everything required minuscule corrections pretty much _constantly_ to keep in balance, perhaps the most annoying of all human senses I was now dealing with full time.

Tucker's face seemed only mildly relieved by this. I felt my face emoting back, probably looking quite confused. Step two, figure out how talking worked. Not for the first time that day I found myself wishing I had paid more attention to the trivial things. I had a bad feeling it wouldn't be the last time, either.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _Hello again. It feels like a case of "Long time, no see" for me, as I ultimately spent the majority of the last week writing Part 2 contents you may not see for three weeks at this rate. It is apparent that I lack discipline as a writer, but let it not be said that it took me 6 days to write ~2 000 words._ _The final "Chapter" of Part 1 may, in fact, be split over two chapters due to length. I am still not sure how I will organize it all, although I have a rough draft of the beat sheet prepared. I will spend the next few days trying to give a satisfying conclusion to this part of the story, and perhaps we will answer that all-important question, "What_ _ **is** left?"_

 _To close, please forgive any spelling or grammar errors in the above. I am too sleepy at present to be entirely confident in my editing abilities._


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note:

 _I do hate to begin with notes, however, I am front-loading this comment to explain the rather strange double-upload some of you will have noticed; the first version of this chapter stopped at a very, very bad location. Early consensus settled on "confusion", and my assessment was that it was not the particular kind of confusion for which I aim. There is no mystery if you know the answer far in advance of the characters, but equally, the impact of realization is lost if half the readership has been fatally misled._

 _My apologies for any inconvenience. This version of the document will, I hope, be slightly more satisfying in where it leaves our story. ‹3_

* * *

I was beginning to feel like I had severely undervalued the ability to speak, not that I could have expected anything like this would happen. I think it took about 30 seconds of pantomime to indicate to Tucker that I couldn't talk _or_ understand a word he was saying, and from there it must have looked like we were trying to play the world's most ridiculously frantic game of charades. The format has its limits, of course, and I was finding out first hand how hard it is to express "Something is wrong with your friend, I'm actually his ghost who has been attached to his body since he half-died four days ago, and I'm worried he might be in trouble so please help us" using hand gestures, especially without any useful feedback.

From the look on Tuck's face I knew he could tell I was trying to communicate as opposed to just having some kind of flailing fit, but equally, I knew from his look of confusion I wasn't making much headway. At this rate, I was going to have to go to plan B, even if the other Danny would hate me for it.

* * *

The park was quiet. It wasn't like the unnatural, anechoic quiet of the English classroom before his run-in with the ghost, but just as eerie, there was a complete absence of noise. No birds called from the sky, no wind rustled the leaves in the trees, no cars sped along nearby roadways. It was as though all life had been suddenly and unceremoniously removed from Amity Park.

A horrifying thought struck Danny. Was this one of his lapses? ...and if so, had he asked himself that same question already?

That didn't seem likely, somehow. From what he could tell he had continued to act more or less normally during the periods of time he had lost. That really only raised more questions, though. If it wasn't a memory lapse, what was it? Or was there a problem in his underlying assumptions? The possibilities were very seriously threatening to spiral out of control. Danny gave his head a shake as if to dislodge unhelpful thoughts before he got off the bench and started pacing.

"OK Fenton, think like a scientist. You know you're dealing with a head injury. Maybe your brain got unhooked from your body again? ...but then again, your ghost was pretty sure you wouldn't have that happen a second time. He _could_ be wrong, but- Oh, of course!" He could have slapped himself. When you had questions, go to the expert.

'Hey, uh, ghost-me, do you know what just happened?' No response.

'Hello?' Nothing.

The mental silence made him even more uneasy than that of the world around him. On Tuesday he had hoped for this kind of quiet, but now that he had it, he was worried. Danny tried grasping around within his own mind, searching for the familiar alien presence. He could feel the traces of the ghost in the little sparks of power he had come to associate with his new abilities, but like the rest of the life in Amity Park, the specter itself was absent.

He realized that he was well and truly _alone_.

Panic set in soon after. To Danny, standing in the middle of an open space, it felt as though the walls were closing in, and the earth was spinning out from under him. He fell to his knees and screwed his eyes shut, silently pleading for the feeling, this situation, for all of it to just be _over_. He just wanted to be home. The way home had felt before the accident, before he was terrified of his own family finding out his secrets.

At the mere thought, the feeling of vertigo flipped off like a switch. Tentatively, he opened his eyes. Surprisingly, the ground was bobbing up and down slightly in front of him. A glance showed that it wasn't the ground itself that was moving, it was _him_ ; he was floating a few inches off the grass below, moving gently as if buffeted by an unseen updraft.

Experimentally, he tried to stand. Danny found his feet pressing against thin air. He had held his arms out at his sides, ready for the upheaval he had experienced in the gym. Fortunately, this time his balance came quite naturally to him.

"OK, there's the silver lining." Danny shakily adjusted his elevation until he was a dozen feet off the ground. He managed to smile in spite of himself. "Once I figure out where he is, I'm sure ghost-me will be proud I worked that one out on my own."

As he took off in an unsteady flight back to Fentonworks, Danny couldn't help but mentally add the word he hadn't dared to voice. _If_ he figured it out.

The lifeless city passed in the blink of an eye. From his current vantage point, Danny could tell it was just as empty as he had feared. It was more than enough to cut into the joy of flight, although what really did it was reaching his block and seeing his home was gone.

More accurately, it wasn't "gone" in the strict sense, but... Different. Where the modest brick structure had once stood, there was now a gothic-looking fortress, complete with tall arching windows and narrow spires that looked equally imposing and absurd next to the city around it. And yet, deep down, he _knew_ it was his house. He was about to file that somewhere lower on the list of strange things to happen that day when he heard a loud thunk, followed by a splitting pain in his shoulder. It was all he knew as the world was overtaken by blackness.

* * *

 _"Fine! I give up! Do you hear me?!_ _ **I give up!**_ _"_

Being honest, I had no idea who I was trying to shout at. Tucker certainly didn't hear the thought, and a quick check showed other Danny was still MIA. I had thrown up my hands and started to walk away, ignoring the continuing warbles of frantic human speech. As far as I could tell I was no closer to explaining the situation to him, and this was after what must have been 15 minutes of concerted effort. I was just going to have to try plan B after all, as uncomfortable as the prospect seemed.

I only made it a few steps before I was grabbed by the wrist. I'm sure I must have been staring daggers at Tuck when I whipped around to face him, moving to jerk my arm out of his grasp. My expression flipped when I saw what he was so keen for me to stick around for.

Sam Manson, long-time friend and apparent psychic, was walking up to us. I could have thrown my arms around her; she was carrying her journal. The written word, now that I could do. They were nice and simple and didn't involve moving meat around rushing air or trying to interpret little rattles in tinier bones. You just put down the letters in a row, and hey presto, your soul was laid bare to the world, unencumbered by this nonsense about tone or intonation that even Danny failed to grasp half the time.

She made some sounds I took as a greeting, so I smiled and waved in response. I may have misread it slightly because she cocked her head to one side, and she and Tucker had to do some hasty words at each other until a look of mingled recognition and concern flashed across her features. I was still more interested in that book, although neither of my friends was paying much mind to the mute in their midst.

With a quick tap on Tucker's shoulder, I got their attention and I tried to mime my interest in the writing materials Sam was carrying. They both looked confused for a moment before a sudden realization seemed to hit Sam. She strode over toward the pair of us and said some things to Tucker that made him drop my arm, and we made our way back to the bench.

Before very long, I had filled two entire pages with what I considered to be the most concise possible explanation of the current situation. I had written quickly enough that my left hand was essentially one massive cramp, so as soon as I handed the book over to Sam and Tucker I spent some time working the kinks out of my joints. To my surprise, Tucker wrote something almost immediately, handing the journal back with a confused look. The reply was just one simple word:

 _What?_

I was confused for a moment until I noticed his letters were written the opposite way to how I'd made mine; they probably couldn't read what I had written. To say the least, it was a bit embarrassing. I had always assumed Danny wrote with the other hand because he preferred it, but maybe that was the trick to this?

With an exasperated sigh, I started _again_ , right-handed and with greater concentration.

* * *

"BEHOLD! The accomplishment of our toils!" The loud voice made Danny open his eyes. He had no idea how long he'd been out for, but the pain in his shoulder had faded somewhat. He turned his head to the side, which turned out to be a mistake.

There was a rather large crossbow bolt sticking directly out of his chest, with a foot or so of hastily severed rope tied to the end of it. The white-hot pain returned with a vengeance as Danny instinctively tried to jerk his arm up off the surface he was on. Perhaps fortunately, he was unable to move his limbs to any great degree; when the stars finally cleared from his eyes, he realized he was strapped down to a metal examination table of some kind.

A second voice, quieter and further away, evidently noticed his discomfort. "Hmm. It appears the creature is awake." This voice was velvet on the ears, a rich bass that offered no emotion or warmth. Danny turned his head to see his captors; in spite of everything else, he was still surprised.

He was in some kind of gas-lit dungeon, hastily repurposed as a mad scientist's lab worthy of a vintage monster movie. A very strange looking figure was descending granite steps, covered from head to toe in flowing orange robes, his face entirely obscured by a stark white pointed mask. The man's eyes were points of glowing green light shining in blackness. Directly on his right side, he presumed was the more enthusiastic of the pair, dressed in a blue surgical smock, auburn hair tied back loosely. When she turned him, Danny immediately wished she hadn't. Like the man, her face was partially covered with some sort of ceramic theater mask, but it cut off at the cheekbones to reveal a smile that he associated more closely with National Geographic specials on sharks. Behind the eye-holes, dull patches of purple stared at him from the middle of the dark red sclera.

Then it hit him. "Oh man, this is a dream, isn't it?" He almost smiled. All he had to do was wake up.

But the surgeon was on top of him in a heartbeat. "Indeed it is my dear phantom, the culmination of years of research! Tonight, we rebel at the very _boundaries_ of natural philosophy!" She was looming over him, predatory grin fixed in place. Danny flinched when she extended a hand and brushed it lightly, cold and clammy, against his cheek. He was desperate to look away from her and turned his head to the other side. The assistant had hung up his outermost dressings and was now tying on an apron covered in dark brown stains. Thankfully, he was grabbed by the chin and forced to stare back into those unnatural eyes above him. "And _you_ have the good fortune to be the first of many lost souls we shall render down and infuse with **life**!"

If this was a dream, it really couldn't end soon enough. "Uh, hey, about that. I'm not really on board with the whole... The _rending_ thing, so do you maybe just want to grab somebody else to try this on?"

The assistant interrupted the surgeon before her reply came. "Truly, I cannot believe I am saying this, but the phantom has a point my dearest. Your reliance on crossbows and winches as opposed to the nets I have suggested has left this one..." He quickly grasped at the bolt lodged in the teen's shoulder blade and pulled it out sharply, a viscous green substance oozing forth in its absence. He finished the sentence over Danny's screams. "...damaged. Surely a more suitable candidate can be found?"

With a furious screech, she yanked the bolt out of the man's hand, although Danny was hardly paying attention. His body was one massive nerve, alight with pain, and he could scarcely hear the increasingly heated conversation above him. And still, reality refused to take him from this place, even as the room was replaced by darkness.

* * *

 _Hello!_

 _To cut a long story short, after the accident on Monday, my mind was split into two components. The part you've been speaking with since then comprises only one half, whereas I am the ghost half of Danny Fenton. I realize this is a rushed introduction. However, I am concerned about the well-being of my human counterpart. He seems to be unconscious or missing somehow. What would you suggest we do to solve this?_

The message was slightly more concise on its second iteration, and with only a minimum of letters written incorrectly. I considered the effort satisfactory. My grin was short-lived, as Tucker was soon making more attempts to speak directly to me, looking vaguely upset. When I just shrugged, Sam took over by talking back at him. All in all, I was quite lost for about a minute or so before she hastily jotted down a message. She flipped the book around so I could see it clearly.

 _He thought you were screwing with us._

I got Tucker's attention with a hand-wave and shook my head in a slightly more sad way this time, hoping the gesture seemed genuine. While I did this, Sam had asked a question and handed the book back to me.

 _Did Danny not tell Tucker about you?_

With a scoff, I replied simply:

 _Apparently not. Honestly, I don't know if Danny would remember to put pants on in the morning without me._

She smiled for a moment, holding back laughter. A chuckle finally escaped when Tucker grabbed the journal and pen from my hands. He didn't seem much in the mood for joking, although I guess I shouldn't have been either. What can I say, it's a better coping mechanism than doing math problems.

 _So why are you asking us what to do about this? You're the ghost! Can't you just chant some magic words to fix this?_

At first, I had no idea how to take the neatly-printed accusation. Then I settled on "annoyed".

 _#1- There's no such thing as magic, Tuck.  
#2- Why would being a ghost make me an expert here?!_

I was in a huff and barely noticed that Sam and Tucker had started arguing again, the strange rises and falls of speech going neatly in one ear and out the other. That was until I heard Tucker say "Doctor". As in, I heard it with my ears, and then I understood it.

I must have nearly jumped half a foot in my seat because they stopped talking immediately and looked at me. I ignored a questioning sort of trill and hastily wrote down an explanation.

 _I just heard a word Tucker used! "Doctor", right?_

Some enthusiastic nods confirmed it. Under different circumstances, I would have felt pretty proud about understanding my first word of English unaided, but there was bigger fish to fry. For one thing, Sam had the same question I did.

 _Just the one word? And why "Doctor"?_

I could only shrug by way of explanation. They seemed to find that unsatisfactory, but I didn't have much to add.

 _No idea, maybe human Danny has doctors on the mind for some reason?_

That seemed to spark some idea in Tucker. Normally, my other half would be preparing for the worst at this point, but frankly, I was willing to entertain just about any crazy idea at that moment.

 _Maybe his thoughts are the way to get through to him? Here's what I'm thinking..._

I scanned the plan he outlined from there. It was short and sweet, and more importantly, it was the best option any of us had come up with in the hour that had passed in my human partner's absence.

But I just _knew_ Danny would hate it. Me, I thought it was a great plan and told them so.

* * *

"Please grab a bandage, won't you darling dear?" The sound of the voice shattered any hope Danny might have had that he was going to wake up somewhere _normal_ for a change. That horrible surgeon was still leaning over him, holding a needle and evidently admiring her work. She noticed when he opened his eyes and smiled at him brightly. "Oh, good, you're awake. Don't worry sweetie, there's nothing to fear! Look! No blood, no decay," the way she cooed softly at him was making his hairs stand on end, "...just a few stitches. And look, here's the final touch! Thank you, darling." She took the bandage the assistant was offering and wrapped Danny's freshly stitched wound.

His morbid curiosity got the better of him, and Danny ventured a glance at the sore spot. It was immediately clear he had indeed had a hole in him, and although it was stitched expertly, it was still leaking some strange green fluid. It ran like molasses down his bared shoulders and covered the gloved hands of both his captors. He shuddered before he collected himself, resolving to try at least one more time to talk his way out of this. "So, uh, that green stuff sure looks dangerous, I guess you can't do this experiment huh?"

The assistant, standing off to one side, folded his arms and scoffed. The surgeon, on the other hand, had a rather different reaction. "It's your ectoplasm! And yes, it's _fantastically_ dangerous! That's why we need to get rid of it!" He couldn't even bring himself to shout when she gripped either side of his head, instead just staring up in mute horror when she began moving her hands over his face and through his hair as if seeing him for the first time, tracking the cold slime behind roving gloves. "And we will remove it when we bring you back to life! We will _save_ you, my precious, little, baby boy! Now, dearest one, please bring over the equipment and we can begin immediately."

The intense look in her inhuman eyes was clearly not one that could be reasoned with, even if she had not quite forcefully shoved a rubber bite block into his mouth. "You'll want to try to chew that instead of your tongue dear phantom. When you become a human we don't want you to lose that lovely voice of yours!"

Danny tried talking around the mouthguard, but to no avail. His panic increased when he realized the table was now moving, the ghastly assistant was behind his head pushing him forward toward a massive hole in the wall. He heard a switch being thrown elsewhere in the room, and with it came the dull whine of capacitors charging. The restraints were too tough to break out of despite his kicking and thrashing, and bright arcs of electricity started loudly flashing, illuminating the dark cavern ahead. Over it all, Danny could hear the surgeon raving in the background, but the last words he heard as he was wheeled screaming into the chamber were the whispered hiss of the assistant next to his ear.

"Goodbye, _phantom._ "

* * *

Danny got just the briefest taste of 250,000 volts before he jolted awake on a bench, thoroughly disoriented. The sooner he could forget about that nightmare, the better. All he could do was bury his face in trembling hands. More for Tucker's sake than his own, he just said simply, "That... That was the worst one yet."

A cold hand clapped him on the back. "I'll say, you look rough kid. Almost makes me want to not say I told you so."

Danny looked up incredulously. He wasn't sitting in the park, and that wasn't Tucker he was sitting next to. "Aw, hell. I told you so. Dying's kind of rough, but you'll get over it. Here..." The greaser grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his jacket, shaking one loose and offering it up to Danny. "Need a light?"

"I don't smoke... I, I'm sorry, did you say 'dying'?"

"Yeah, that's how people end up in the ghost zone."

Danny took a moment to take in his surroundings. He was sitting on a wooden picnic table in what looked suspiciously like the small lunch area next to Casper High, although everything from the brick structure next to them to the blades of grass was entirely colored in shades of gray. More alarming was the jagged edge where the ground simply ended a few feet away from where they sat, and Danny had good reason to suspect it would be a very long fall. The sky beyond was black, but the familiar summer stars had been replaced with nebulous clouds of swirling green, and several randomly strewn, strange purple objects that bobbed in mid-air off in the distance. "The ghost zone?" It was true he had wanted to see it, but now was hardly the time for sight-seeing. "But how did I _end up_ here?"

The ghost next to him let out an exasperated sigh. To avoid hearing the brewing rant, Danny quickly added, "Sorry, I was thinking out loud. You just said I must have died, but I don't remember anything like that happening."

"I dunno kid, if you ain't a ghost you're the strangest human I've ever seen. Or did you not notice your new threads?"

He had not. Danny looked down at himself, and immediately leaped up and off the bench with a startled yelp. At first, it had appeared as though his skin had turned jet black, but it revealed itself to be some kind of full-length hazmat suit, complete with starkly contrasting boots and gloves. Aside from the fact that the material itself seemed to luminesce in a soft white, it almost looked like something his parents would come up with. A quick check under the gloves revealed his skin gave off the same unearthly glow, while also assuaging Danny's private fear that he might _also_ be entirely grayscale. That quirk seemed to be exclusive to the other two ghosts he had seen so far.

It was a moment before he found the words he was looking for. "OK, I'll admit this is pretty weird, but I still don't remember _dying_. Shouldn't that be, I dunno, kind of a vivid experience? Do you remember how you died?"

The older teen shuddered. "...Yeah, and that ain't exactly something you just go askin', get it?" He glowered at Danny for a moment to make sure the message had sunk in before he added, "Look. If that's how you get your kicks, you can go back and find your corpse. That crazy portal thing is just over thataway."

They threw a thumb over their shoulder, indicating what Danny supposed must have been the front of the school. He smiled. "Hey, thanks! Later!"

As he took flight, he heard the other ghost calling after him, "That wasn't a _serious_... Damn it, get back here!" Danny just laughed and shot off.

* * *

Something snapped in my mind half a block from home. That's what it felt like, anyway; sort of like Danny waking up in the morning, but more distant? And instead of wrangling me for control, his mind still seemed dormant. Still, the presence was better than dead air. " _Maybe he's OK after all..._ "

Sam and Tucker stopped in their tracks. I nearly ran straight into an adorable purple spider thing. When two pairs of heads looked at me, I tried returning my best questioning look, confused as to why they were stopping.

Tucker was the first to speak. "Uh, Danny? Did you just talk?"

I must have stood there, slack-jawed and staring, for too long because Sam repeated the question. "Which Danny are we talking to?"

Stupefied as I was, all I managed to do was pull a classic Fenton and answer their questions with a question. "How... Can I understand you?"

"Uh, dude, you do realize you're talking, right?"

"Am I?!"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Yeah Danny, you're talking. So what happened? Like a second ago you said 'he's OK'."

I blinked for a moment. "Oh, uh, yeah. It's like he kind of woke up a bit, but he's still not... In the building, if you know what I mean."

"...that can happen?" Tucker looked incredulous. To be honest, if I wasn't _there_ for it, I would have agreed.

Instead, I gave a grin. "Apparently. May I present, Exhibit A." I spread my hands out grandly like I was presenting myself to a circus audience. "Ta-da!"

That earned me a punch on the shoulder from Sam. "Ow! Fine, back to very _seriously_ going to talk to Jazz." Tucker's plan had mostly consisted of admitting how horribly out of our depth we were and asking Jazz for advice. She might not have been a doctor either, but the three of us had basically agreed that she was at least _closer_. "...So, even though I guess I could talk her through this myself, would you guys mind sticking around? I'd uh, feel better with some company."

Tucker put on a genial smile and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Hey, no sweat man. If we're there we can stop you from saying anything weird or stupid. Or weird and stupid!" That managed to get a laugh out of Sam, but I just groaned and let myself be led up the stairs to Fentonworks.

* * *

On this side, the portal hung in mid-air, although unlike most of the rest of the gravity-defying occupants of the dimension the heavy metal frame seemed to form a fixed point. Unmoving, unwavering, a steady certainty containing the unknown energies in those swirling green mists.

"Huh." From this side, Danny couldn't help but agree with the other ghost's assessment that it looked pretty deadly.

"Still sure you want to do this, kid?"

"...yeah, I kind of have to, don't I?"

"Cousin, there's a lotta stuff you gotta do, and this ain't one of them. Like, I dunno, agitate some asphalt in a ragtop. Steal the clutch off the two-wheeled wonder's bike and stick it on the library roof. Fly down to Walker's lock-up and screw with the fuzz. Maybe, and I'm just guessing here, kiss a girl for the first time. Or..." The ghost had been counting on his fingers as he went. He hovered over his fifth digit for a moment, thinking, before apparently giving up. "Or something. Nobody ever said you had to see your own corpse."

"Well, I did. I don't believe for a second that I'm actually _dead_ dead. I've just... I'm going to have to figure out what to do about the glowing when I get back out there."

The ghost sighed and ran a hand through slicked-back hair. "Fine. Your funeral kid. It might _actually_ be your funeral. But I won't try to talk you out of it." He mulled something over for a moment before grabbing a small silver tankard out of his jacket. He twisted off the cap and offered it to Danny. "Dutch courage?"

"You know I'm only 14, right?" Danny legitimately wasn't sure if that had been clear enough the first time. "I just need a second."

"Your loss, boss." The older teen took a shot himself and forcefully shoved Danny through the portal.

* * *

Jazz hadn't said much for about a minute; she had just leaned into her high-backed chair, and you could practically see the gears turning over behind those eyes while she processed. I had been practicing rolling two fireballs around in the palm of my hand without letting them touch. After the first demonstration, I had toned down the pyrotechnics, which had caused some screaming, a temporary panic when our parents burst in with weapons armed and ready, and which also left a hastily concealed burn mark on the rug.

That had been about 10 minutes ago. After the smell of ozone and burning polyester had cleared a bit, we talked things through. Sam and Tucker had backed me up on enough points to make it clear I hadn't just gone out of my mind.

"...guys, sorry if I'm sounding like a broken record, but are you _actually_ saying Danny is dead?"

I extinguished the fireballs with a weary sigh. "Why do you guys keep getting so hung up on that? We're _not dead_. Just, not... _As_ alive."

"...uh huh. So, you're not telling mom and dad?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'd like to—"

Sam interjected, "Ah, so you're the 'conflicting advice' he was talking about."

"—yep, that'd be me, 'Mr. Conflicting'. I'd like to, but other-Danny is still on the fence and I'd rather not force his hand."

"Well, would you look at my baby brother, being all responsible." She said it with a grin, but she _had_ called me her brother. The next time Danny wondered if telling our family was a good idea you can bet I was going to tell him about that. "But as for getting him back or waking up his 'half' of the mind or whatever, I'm sorry to say I couldn't tell you. As far as I know there really isn't a precedent for this kind of thing outside of _maybe_ dissociative disorders and split-brain patients. Although..."

The "although" eased some growing frowns in the room, but she certainly took her time in formulating the rest of that sentence. I had started to suspect it was Jazz's version of a holding pattern when she finally continued. "Did uh, 'other-Danny' ever get around to trying that mindfulness meditation thing I recommended earlier? This seems like a long shot, but maybe you just need to relax yourself a bit before you can bring him back up to the surface, so to speak."

"Oh, yeah, we tried searching for instructions on the internet earlier. The only thing we could find was some weird stuff about ley lines and chakras or something."

Once Jazz had finally stopped laughing, she looked back up to see three fairly unimpressed pairs of eyes looking back at her. "Oh, oh no. That's not what I meant at all. Just sit down somewhere comfortable and try not to think too much or let your mind wander. It's an exercise to better control your thinking."

"Good, I hadn't taken you for some kind of mystic, Jazz." She _actually_ stuck her tongue out at me. "Oh come on, that was funny. So, as long as you're not busy, could I practice here?"

"Yeah, sure. Just sit up straight, close your eyes, and I swear I won't demonstrate to Sam and Tucker exactly where you're ticklish." I shot her a look and she held her hand over her heart in a mock salute. "Scout's honor."

I closed my eyes. It was dark and after a few seconds, I felt stupid. "Uh, now what?"

"Hmm? Oh, just... Don't think? Sometimes I find it helps to imagine a candle burning or something simple like that."

OK, that I could do. In my mind's eye, I could see a small point of light. It was a light green and pulsed gently, like the last burning ember in a campfire. I tried to concentrate on its shape, size, and even its warmth, pushing aside all other thoughts as they tried to intrude. That was made a bit more difficult when _another_ spark appeared, more distant this time, and yet shining an intense electric blue. It was racing toward "my" light, and getting faster. I barely had time to consider why I wasn't thinking of them both as "my lights" before it was suddenly on top of me.

* * *

Not for the first time that day, Danny was disoriented. In a split second, he realized it was because he was facing the ceiling of the lab, but he wasn't on the floor, and his mind wanted very much to tell him something must be wrong with his eyes. At the end of that moment, however, he was being sucked straight up _through_ the ceiling, the floor, and the next ceiling and floor too. He saw himself hurtling at... Himself, somehow, before suddenly everything was dark.

"Danny?!" The chorus numbered three voices this time. He opened his eyes and this time he was lying on the floor of Jazz's room, although for some reason his sister and best friends were all standing above him.

"This had better not be another weird dream..."

 _"Oh hey, welcome back champ!"_

"Oh thank god it's real!" If the voice was there, that was proof enough for him. He hopped up onto his feet and grabbed the other three in a tight hug. "You would not _believe_ the afternoon I've had." He let them go and the smile ran off his face at their worried expressions.

"Uh, Danny? You're, ah..." Jazz managed to stammer out.

Sam seemed to have forgotten how to speak, and so Tucker had to finish the sentence. "Dude, you're glowing."

He looked down and saw he was still in the black-and-white jumpsuit, casting its unearthly light. "Damn it, of course, this thing _would_ stick around..."

 _"Sooo... When did this happen?"_

'Long story, can I tell you later?'

 _"Uh, fine. Cliff's Notes from my end, Jazz knows everything, so you can skip that part and get straight to trying to explain to three very worried people that you aren't about to turn into a radioactive super-zombie."_

'Crap, right!'

He was about to try to reassure his friends he was fine when all four of them heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps bounding up the stairs. The color drained from Danny's face. He thought he saw a glimpse of his life flashing before his eyes before the door swung open and his parents burst in armed for battle. "Jazziepants, Danno, are you and your friends OK?"

His mother ran straight past the teen, dropping to the floor and aiming a pistol-sized weapon under the bed. "Stop hiding, you foul fiend! If you harm a hair on these children's heads, I will _not cease_ _to track you down_ _until you have been_ _ **dismembered!**_ "

The threat was only shouted at dust bunnies, however. A thoroughly confused Danny looked to his friends for an explanation, although he only got wide eyes and a silencing motion in response. He snuck a look down at his body and discovered that he looked completely normal; startled, yes, but glowing, no. He eventually found his own voice. "Uh, mom, dad, do you... Did you measure a ghost in here or something?"

Jack, currently menacing a bookshelf with what looked like a perfectly ordinary baseball bat, was the first to respond. "Yeah, looks like we got another false alarm. Well, sorry kids, go back to playing with your iPods." With a cheery wave, he departed. Maddie wasn't far behind, adding brightly, "And remember, if you see any ghosts, kill them before they can kill you!"

As soon as the door slammed shut behind them, Danny had collapsed onto Jazz's bed, his heart pounding. Jazz was leaning against the window, deep in thought, whereas Sam and Tucker seemed to mostly just be trying to recover. Sam was hugging her knees to her chest from the safety of Jazz's couch.

"Danny, have I ever mentioned that your parents are kinda intense?"

 _"That's one word for it."_ The voice sounded reasonably frightened. Danny supposed it was technically the ghost-half of their existence being threatened.

"Yeah, you could say that. I was going to tell you in the park. Before I left to meet Tucker, I got to hear all about how they're planning to systematically _dismantle_ any ghosts they manage to get their hands on."

Tucker helpfully corrected him. "I think you told me the word they used was 'rip', not 'dismantle'."

Danny sat up so as to better glare at his friend. "Yeah. Yeah thanks Tuck, very comforting. But it's really the ghost they've got locked up in the basement I feel sorry for. That idiot has no idea who he messed with."

The room fell silent again, leaving its occupants with their thoughts. In Danny's case, quite literally. _"...I actually have an idea about that."_

'When _don't_ you?'

 _"Har. Look, you can probably get rid of that guy without your parents putting him through... That."_ This time, Danny couldn't help but somewhat share his ghost's revulsion. Vivid memories from a certain dream were still swimming just under the surface of his thoughts.

'What are you proposing?'

* * *

Heavy boots were running up the basement stairs, heading straight for Jazz's room. One of the four was being carried with a slight limp, but both of the hunters had cleared the ground floor in under 5 seconds nonetheless. As Danny faded slowly into partial visibility, he figured he probably had about a minute to pull this off.

White boots walked carefully, silently, and yet as commanding as he could possibly make them, down the stairs and across the lab. Gloved hands gave two sharp raps on the side of the containment cell, where the spectral form of Buck Martin was lying down just above the floor. He threw himself to his feet at the intrusion before he saw who it was and his eyes narrowed. "You." The word was laced with venom.

"Yes, me. I hope my, um... Human associates, have been treating you fairly?"

"Did you really drag your yellow-bellied self down here just to gloat from the other side of this cage? Real brave, tough guy."

"Actually, no." That seemed to take the wind out of Buck's sails, which he was glad for. He wasn't used to acting imposing. "I'm here to offer you a deal. I'll return you to the ghost zone, but know this. Amity Park is my haunt, do you 'dig'? I'm feeling lenient, but if I see you around here again, you answer to the uh, _wrath_ of Danny Fen—"

 _"Whoa, maybe hold off on the real names. I mean unless you want literally_ everybody _to know you're acting like some kind of ghostly crusader."_

"—tom! Which is _definitely_ my name!"

"...did you say 'Fentom'?"

"No, I said Phantom! The name is Danny Phantom. Now get out of here, fool!" Before Buck could ask further questions, he hit the Fenton Flusher and the specter was ejected back through the ghost portal.

 _"...where'd you come up with_ that _name?"_

'I'd rather not talk about it. Still, pretty good huh?'

 _"Eh, you may have laid it on a bit thick, but I'd give that a solid 8/10."_

He rolled his eyes and grabbed the pad of sticky notes from his parents' desk. Once he had written his note, he left it stuck to the side of the tank.

 _Attention hunters;_

 _I took the liberty of dealing with this ghost for you. Please direct all further ghost-related complaints to me directly._

 _-D. "Inviso-Bill" Phantom_

His ghost stifled a laugh. _"Oh, they're not going to like that. So, to review, you've just issued an ultimatum to a ghost more powerful than us, had at least one—"_ He was interrupted by the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs in the living room far above them, _"—possibly two encounters with Amity Park's best ghost researchers, and now you've essentially issued a declaration of war on your own parents. Yeesh, with a day like that, what's left to do?"_

'What's left?' The door to the lab clicked open, and with a laugh Danny took off through the ceiling. 'Come on, we're just getting _started._ '

 **End of Part I**


	12. Interlude: The Home Front

**The Home Front**

He had yet to go through five consecutive days actually spent in school, but after two weeks of secondary education, Danny Fenton had more or less decided that the whole thing was overrated. Maybe it was because he'd had to fight off _two_ different ghosts since classes had resumed on Tuesday, but he was already feeling overwhelmed. Right now, he would be spending half the Labor Day Weekend doing homework. Lancer's English class _alone_ had him reading half a dozen depressing poems about the horrors of trench warfare. And of course, the write-up was due in four days' time.

 _"Still, at least it's Friday, right champ? At least don't worry about the homework until tomorrow, tonight is about hanging out with Sam and Tucker."_

Danny paused just a moment before opening the front door. He could hear an animated conversation taking place between his parents, and an older male voice he couldn't quite place. That may not have rung any alarm bells, were it not for the fact that he heard his name come up several times.

He girded himself and walked through the door, attempting to look casual. As suspected, his parents were happily chatting over coffee in the living room, although with a man Danny didn't recognize. He wore the dark suit and inoffensive tie of a middle manager, although the US flag lapel pin made "bureaucrat" seem more likely.

"Danny, my boy!" His father got up suddenly and closed the distance between them, throwing an arm around his son and leading him over to the sofa. "Mr. Baker here just told us the great news!"

"Oh? Uh, what news?" It was hard to trust news when you had no idea who the parties involved were. Danny could tell "Phantom" was uneasy about the newcomer, but he had so far said nothing.

The man who was presumably Mr. Baker flashed him a toothy smile and rose to shake Danny's hand. "Good afternoon Daniel! I'm here from the Office of Youth Outreach for the United States Department of Education. I just wanted to personally congratulate you on your essay! It was a real standout in the crowd."

"My essay? _What_ essay?"

Mr. Baker still hadn't let go of his hand, which he now gave a light squeeze. "Yes! I understand it was quite a while ago that you submitted your entry, but you've been selected for the Eugene Cernan Award for Aerospace Pioneers! It's a one-time federally-awarded bursary for $5,000 if you choose to study engineering at select institutions." He dropped his hand and turned to Danny's parents. "Now, Dr. and Dr. Fenton, could I talk to Daniel alone for a moment? There are some details I'd like to discuss with him in private."

Maddie smiled warmly. "Of course. We'll be down in the lab if you need us, sweetie." She pulled Danny into a tight hug with a whispered "Congratulations!" before she withdrew from the room with Jack, who gave Danny a clap on the shoulder on his way.

Once the footsteps had receded down the stairs, Mr. Baker sat back down onto the couch and pulled his briefcase off the floor and onto his lap, opening it with a _click_. When he spoke again, there was no trace of the smile or the thick Midwestern accent that had been present seconds ago. "Please, Danny, take a seat."

His fight or flight instinct was telling him this was the wrong thing to do, but slowly, Danny sat down in the chair opposite the man. Baker had pulled a folder out of his case and was now thumbing through the contents, which were littered with multicolored sticky notes and paper clips.

"You've been making quite some waves lately, haven't you young man? Assuming you are actually a young man at all, of course." Probing eyes shot Danny a look before resuming their examination of the documents.

"Um, what do you mean by that?"

"I think you know what I mean."

Cold terror clutched at Danny. 'There's no way he actually... _knows_ , is there?'

 _"I don't know, but it's probably a good sign that he's talking to us instead of leading us into the back of an unmarked van, right?"_

'Not helpful.'

Baker chuckled. "Lose the deer-in-the-headlights look Phantom, I could care less if you're really 100 years old or some kind of bat-winged monstrosity under there. That's not what I'm here about."

"I-I'm sorry sir, but I think you have the wrong kid. My name is _Fenton_ , I'm only 14 years old."

The other man frowned and flipped the folder around. Danny found himself looking at a black-and-white image; it looked like it was taken by a CCTV camera. The angle was bad, but it fairly clearly caught him from across the street, flying dozens of feet in the air above Casper High. "Then would you mind explaining why this ghost matching your physical appearance was seen flying above your school while you were unaccounted for? We impounded the footage from the convenience store as well as all the tapes from your school on the day of the attack. Imagine my surprise when it turned out the ghost that saved the Foley kid had also been attending classes in the same shirt, shoes, and jeans."

"You aren't from the Department of Education, are you?"

He got a wry grin in response. "And you aren't a normal 14-year-old kid, are you?"

He was busted. That much was obvious. Danny sighed and sank back into the chair, having realized he had somehow ended up on the edge of his seat. Clearly, this man knew there was something going on, but Danny had no idea what the guy's intentions were. He did know that his mom and dad still seemed to be in the dark, and Phantom was right; if Baker wanted to do any harm, he probably would have without the coffee and pleasantries. "OK, fine. Just for the record, I really _am_ 14 years old. But I guess you know 'normal' doesn't really apply, huh?"

Baker gave a slight smile that almost looked like relief before flipping the folder closed, and placing it back in his briefcase. With a _click-clack_ , it was locked and on the floor again. "I guess it doesn't. So, you're a smart kid. Why do you think I'm here?"

"The obvious answer is because you either think I'm dangerous and want to lock me up, or you're here to take me to some kind of lab for experimentation. Am I close?"

The humor seemed to slip out of the man's smile at that. "Well. I suppose it's good that you think that. But I'm actually here as a warning."

"Oh? Of what?"

"There _are_ some people who think you're dangerous and want to lock you up, and while they're at it, they'll probably _also_ take you to a lab to be experimented on. And if I hadn't gotten there first, they might have put together the same pieces, and this wouldn't be a social call."

He shuddered at the implication. "Who are they?"

"They work for the government."

 _"Well, that was... Vague."_

"If they're from the government, who do you work for?"

"Oh, I work for the government too."

"...wait, _what_? Then why are you telling me all this?"

Baker sighed and rubbed his temples. "I'd rather not get into the politics of it, but they have their mission objectives, and I have mine. In this case, those objectives are at odds, because they can't see the forest for the trees. I don't have that luxury." When Danny continued to look confused, he added, "Your government is big and complex, and it has a lot of moving parts. Sometimes the left hand doesn't need to know what the right hand is doing, as long as everyone is working toward the same goal. Fair enough?" Danny nodded. That, he could relate to.

The man paused for a moment. "So, here's my dilemma Danny. This country is at war, and it's looking like it might turn out to be the messiest one we've had in a while. Frankly, while we're concentrating on _that_ shitstorm, we can't afford to keep trying to quietly deal with every single little ghost attack on the home front. _Particularly_ since your parents seem to be keen on making those attack numbers spike. That's why I'm here."

He handed Danny a business card. It was blank aside from an Illinois phone number. "Like I said earlier, I don't care what you are or how you work. What I care about is that you fight ghosts, and you at least _seem_ to give a damn about the human lives around you. That makes you more valuable to me alive and in the field than locked away in a lab somewhere." Another pause, paired with that probing look. "Or in the worst case, I don't want a government agency to push you into deciding human life _isn't_ worth the effort."

When the words sank in, Danny felt a bit sick. He was about to leap to his own purely hypothetical defense when the man just held up a hand.

"So, if you have any problems with federal ghost hunters, I want you to call that number and say 'I'm looking for Bradley Baker in bursaries'. Those words exactly."

Danny turned the card over in his hands and nodded. "OK. Sure. I'll do that."

"Bradley Baker" smiled again and got up suddenly, grabbing his briefcase and making his way to the door. "If all goes well, I'll never see you again." He got one foot out the door before Danny called after him.

"Wait... You never did tell me who these hunters are."

The door clicked shut softly and "Baker" turned back to face him. "They're called the Guys in White. If you see them you'll know why."

"So you're what, FBI?"

"Sure, we can go with that." He opened the door again and started to leave, but just before he crossed the threshold, he paused and added, "Watch your back out there, kid."

 _"Just a thought, maybe step 1 should be to check for cameras more often."_

* * *

Author's Note:

 _And welcome to the little time skip between the major parts of this story. If you have not had the patience to follow the dates (and honestly, who does?), then you ought to know this is eight days after the conclusion of Part 1, which you can read_ _in the new* and improved* chapter 11. This little intermission will not take up too much time, either "in-universe" or hopefully in terms of publishing schedule. I am planning 2 more such chapters before we pick up with Part 2._

 _*- Until about halfway through, it is the same chapter 11 you may have already read. Essentially all that happened was my decision to merge what would have been "chapter 12" into it, so Part 1 could just end already._


	13. Interlude: Side Hobby

**Side Hobby**

It had been a long day. By the time he got in the front door, Danny was exhausted to the bone. The first stop was his bedroom, and there would be no stop two.

Fighting a ghost spider really just meant twice as many limbs to keep track of, and his acrobatic abilities had been tested to their limit. When his enemy had gotten _really_ angry at the pest in its web, they found exactly where those limits were, painfully, and against a brick wall. After that, Phantom took over the flight so Danny could concentrate on hitting the target. However in the end, as the sunlight had faded, the spider managed to give him the slip. Still, it was hard to consider the evening wasted. While he would have preferred to just kill the ghost, the message had probably been clear enough that it wouldn't be back any time soon.

 _"Besides, today was our first actual 'thank you'. Not counting that drunk guy who thought we were a mermaid."_

'Well yeah, _after_ the other people we cut out of the web had run off screaming.'

 _"But the thanks was from the fireman! His opinion must count for like twice as much as any of theirs."_

'So then we're up to what, 2-to-5?'

 _"Would it kill you to just appreciate the small victories once in a while?"_

Danny sighed. It had been a long, long day. Once the civilians were safe and the fires had been put out, he had stuck around to help with the cleanup. Cutting the sticky strands was easy enough, but the webbing must have covered half the block of warehouses the bug had been treating like its own private sandbox. By the time he had finished, the waning moon was already rising in the east, joining the stars in their steady march overhead.

'Sorry, it's... It's just late. And I have school in the morning. G'night, Phantom.'

His head hit the pillow. Before Phantom even had a chance to remind him to kick off his shoes, he was asleep.

 _"...Goodnight, Danny."_

* * *

Maybe I was asking a bit too much of my human half. Me, I was used to thankless tasks, but today was our first encounter that had innocent lives caught up in it. Well, apart from Tucker, but still; this was probably Danny's first experience with people he was helping reacting with that kind of fear. It's a wonder they didn't think to call the Fentons. _That_ would have been ironic.

I gave one last check to make sure he was actually asleep before I rolled off our face and sat up. With a stretch, I got up and walked to the chair by the window, honestly quite eager to pick up where I had left off the previous night.

When Danny really stopped to look, his eyes were always held skyward. As much as I knew he loved our friends, our family, even the city we lived in, there was always that yearning for what lay beyond it. I guess it played nicely off a teenager's drive to make their life their own, and you couldn't really get further away from the typical human experience than space. He tried to hide it by claiming his interests were purely scientific, but we both knew he'd rather be the lone explorer, out in the furthest reaches of the cosmos, seeing the sights and places never witnessed in billions of years. I used to share that with him, although after the portal incident, I guess maybe I was more interested in what was going on right in front of us. Happily, this room had a pretty good view of that.

I gave the tiny brush a swirl in the cup of water which sat on the window sill before I put bristles to paint and paint to paper. I had been working on a blocky rendering of the neighbor's cat sleeping in their window across the way, which fortunately is where the lazy thing had curled up tonight as well. Not that you could really tell how the cat was sleeping in my efforts so far. ...Or, for that matter, that it was supposed to be a cat. I think I had the wall and window part down pat, though. The previous attempt had been a flower I had seen in a window garden, which my human had mistaken for a neon windmill. The night before that, a bad attempt at a bird sleeping in its nest, which I had actually hidden even from him.

Most teenage boys were very private, and I was immensely thankful we were no exception, right down to Danny's clear "Do Not Enter" sign on the door. I don't think my pride could handle anybody seeing these. Not before I got a bit better with the shapes and colors of life.

I guess maybe we weren't all that different, really. My human and I, the dreamers, always reaching for what we didn't have.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _And here we have, the shortest chapter this story will contain, which thus I think deserves the shortest note._


	14. Interlude: Ripped from the Head Lines

**Ripped from the Head Lines**

Danny's head hit the cafeteria table with a soft _thunk_.

"Hey, cheer up man," Danny was pretty sure he felt flecks of masticated fries hitting his arm, and he sat back up while he wiped the limb down with a napkin. At his friend's glare, Tucker swallowed before continuing. "Oh, sorry, Danny. But really, a D is still a pass, right?"

"Yeah, but I kinda doubt my parents are going to see it that way. I was a solid B student through junior high, and now right out of the gates I'm pretty sure I've managed to set a family record for low grades."

 _"Didn't mom say something last Christmas about failing civics in high school?"_

' _That_ was because she wouldn't stop advocating for abolishing universal suffrage in favor of a computer-directed technocracy, not because she wasn't turning homework in on time.'

"Come on, you were just busy over Labor Day. Not every weekend is gonna be like that, is it?"

Danny just rubbed his temples, trying to chase away the headache he'd come down with after the assignments had been returned, with its single red letter glaring accusingly back at him. He had hastily stuffed the paper into a slightly-lighter-blue notebook to avoid looking at it. "I _hope_ not. As if it wasn't bad enough that I had to bail on you guys like 6 times, it cut into homework time enough that I've been trying to get caught up for _two nights_ in a row. I'm not exactly 'setting myself up for academic success' here."

"Dude, you've been hanging around Jazz too much."

 _Thunk_. That had been the last thing he had needed to hear. "If I should die when my parents find out about this mark, think only this of me; I'm in no danger of becoming my sister." His attempt at poetry was muffled slightly by the table in front of his mouth.

Tucker gave him a tap on the shoulder. "Speaking of your sister, is it me or does she have Sam cornered?"

He sat up straight again and turned around to see Jazz had indeed intercepted Sam on the other girl's way to the table. From the wild hand gestures and frequent glances being shot his way, Danny could only assume he wasn't going to like this. His sister handed Sam a tabloid and quickly power-walked from the room, leaving Sam reading the cover with a deepening frown.

"So," she began, practically throwing her tray onto the table, "Jazz found something in the library you should probably see."

"And she isn't telling me this herself, because...?"

"I don't know, something about protecting your independent development by not interfering in social circles. Just take the magazine, alright?" If she had handed it over any more forcefully, it might have hurt his nose.

He realized he was looking at a photograph of himself carrying a screaming woman out of a burning warehouse. He grasped it with unsure hands as he read the headline incredulously. "'Arachnophobic Apparitional Arsonist Terrorizes Small Town Illinois'? Nothing in that title is true!"

"Uh, yeah? What did you expect, it's the _Chicago Inquirer_. If you didn't notice, their other top story this week seems to be implying John Kerry is an illegal alien. As in, from outer space. This is not news journalism at its finest."

All the same, it was a bit worrying that they had managed to get a hold of such a clear photo, even if it was relatively dark; he was facing the photographer almost head-on. Between his expression of concentration, the panicking civilian, and the pearlescent white hair backlit by the orange flames, he looked positively demonic.

 _"...at least they got your good side?"_

"Well, still, it could be worse. I mean, my parents probably aren't going to see this, right? They would have no reason to pick this rag up."

"Uh, Danny? Maybe you should read the article."

Danny didn't have to flip through the publication very far to find it. He'd made page eight.

 _Columbus, Sept. 7 — Halloween has come early to one sleepy Midwestern city; frenzied reports have been pouring in from across Amity Park for days now, all claiming to have witnessed pitched battles between the forces of evil, and in all cases describing one of the combatants as a small, human-shaped monster capable of flying and passing through walls. His latest clash, against an undead spider described as the size of a small car, resulted in a warehouse fire and at least 6 humans being held hostage by one or both of the so-called ghosts._

He turned to look at Sam questioningly, who just pointed at the page he had folded around the back. "Oh, _come on!_ " When he turned the tabloid around to examine it, his parents smiled back at him from the newsprint in full-color glory.

 _"We believe it was likely engaged in some sort of fight for territory with this other ghost," said Dr. Madeline "Maddie" Fulton, a paranormal researcher. "This human-looking ghost, the one that calls itself "D. Phantom" [also known as Inviso-Bill], is well known to us. From the reports we have seen, it has likely been involved in at least three to five other incidents before now, although no clear pictures or video have surfaced."_

 _Maddie and her husband Dr. Jack Fulton, who claim to be Amity Park's greatest ghost hunters, went on to describe the ghost they have been monitoring since the attacks began. "It seems to be haunting the entire town, violently defending its territory against all other challengers. Jack and I have heard about this sort of thing affecting towns across the country, although certainly, this "Phantom" is braver than most; as far as we know, this has never happened to a city the size of Amity Park."_

 _When asked if there was anything else that separated this ghost from others they had encountered, the Fultons seemed uneasy. When pressed, Maddie added, "We wish to reiterate that there is no cause for alarm, but we are reasonably confident that since this ghost has already graduated from vandalism to kidnapping and arson, soon it will start to kill. Once it begins to hunt humans for both food and possibly entertainment, it will not stop until it perceives that it has complete control over the city. That is why it is vital residents stay on alert, and that we capture and exterminate this fiend as soon as possible."_

Danny didn't much feel like reading the rest, and he threw the paper down in disgust. "Am I going to need a public relations team or something?"

 _"Could we sue for libel?"_

'That's really not the problem. If mom and dad get their hands on a copy of this photo...'

The ghost seemed uneasy at the prospect, but his reply was cut off by Tucker, who had just polished off his fries and was looking at Danny intently.

"You know, there's something Sam and me've been wanting to ask."

"And I," Sam corrected.

"Yeah, that's what I said, you and me. Anyway Danny, what you need out there is some kind of help on the ground. Why don't the two of us join in when you go ghost hunting?"

"Uh, Tucker? I can think of one reason. I can fly and shoot lasers from my hands, and last Monday I still spent whole hours getting my butt kicked. If you guys get tangled up in this, you could get really hurt."

"Oh man, that's a good point! Gee Sam, if only there was a way we could defend ourselves while Danny hunts ghosts."

Sam bit back a smile and feigned a look of sadness. "It's a real shame that we don't know anybody with unlimited access to the Fenton family's arsenal of ghost hunting weapons."

"You guys..."

"Wait, what if we tracked down that Danny Fenton kid?"

"Guuuys..."

Sam gasped. "My God, you're right! We _could_ just ask Danny Fenton!"

"Alright, alright, I get it! But after I've been such a flake, asking you to waste your free time fighting stupid ghosts sounds like a sucky way to make it up to you."

"So what you're saying is, we can either barely ever see you, _or_ we can help you by shooting laser guns and rockets at ghosts and then afterward hang out like normal. Hmm..." Sam seemed like she was very carefully weighing her options.

Tucker nodded. "You drive a hard bargain Danny, but we accept. Come on, tomorrow's Friday, we can get some practice in that night if it'll make you feel any better."

"...I'll think about it."

Sam broke into a smile and slapped him on the back. "Great, we'll swing by your place around 7."

Danny just groaned and dropped his head to the table again. _"...so speaking of things you aren't getting out of, I don't want to sound like I'm nagging—"_

'And yet...?'

 _"—maybe since we're planning on 'borrowing' some of mom and dad's weapons, now would be a good time to have The Talk?"_

He drew in a sharp breath that smelled of chlorine and scratched laminate, and let out a heavy sigh. A hand reached over and rubbed his upper back comfortingly. 'I _will_ tell them, alright? I just need more time.'

 _"Right."_ The hand withdrew, and Danny sat up wearily, doing his best to smile reassuringly at his friends. _"But really champ, how much time do you think we have left?"_

* * *

Author's Note:

 _There is little time after all, I suppose, as that concludes our intermission. The next chapter will be the beginning of Part II. From the traffic figures, I think I may have to start with a short (~3-5 sentence) summary of the events of Chapter 11, as I think there are a few readers who yet have not seen the updated copy... Speaking of which, I do not mind mentioning that the particularly gruesome sequence* in Chapter 11 was indeed a dream and not the_ direct _cause of the out-of-body experience. Careful readers will likely have noticed a trend distinct to dreams, although I will not state it outright._

 _Nonetheless. This was a fun little exercise for me, although I am very much looking forward to returning to the more usual style of this story. And of course, moving the actual plot forward, rather than this little mini-arc of Danny attempting to come to grips with his growing reputation._

 _I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving! Or, at the least, a wonderful weekend for those not in this small corner of the world. I shall see you again in Part II._

 _*-_ _I_ _nspired by the events of Chapter 10 and very loosely by Frankenstein, which I have decided Danny was once assigned to read, but tried to avoid doing by watching the classic film adaptation. He did poorly on that test._


	15. Chapter 12

**Part II: What is Right**

Danny Fenton was running for his life, willing his exhausted legs to carry him forward just one more step, and then another, and another.

The battle was not going well. He had been fighting a whole menagerie of ghostly animals. Individually, they were not the most challenging ghosts he had yet encountered, but what they lacked in strength, they more than made up for in numbers. Trying to fight them one-by-one with ectoblasts was like trying to hold back the tide with a bailing bucket; slow, exhausting, and almost as effective.

And so he ran. He skidded around a corner of the alley, but he hadn't lost all of his pursuers. A swarm of rats at least a hundred strong were squeakily chasing after him, sharp teeth bared and beady red eyes glinting. He just had to run to safety. The first step was making it out of this alley.

When Danny broke out into the sunlight, he was in the middle of 11th Street, the wide avenue conspicuously empty for the late afternoon. He must have been interrupting a parade because the sidewalks were lined with spectators, all peering intently at the street through view finders or LCD screens. He wanted to shout at them to get to safety when he felt a nip at his ankles.

He slowly turned his head to look behind and wished he hadn't. The writhing mass of ghostly rats had gained on him and grown besides. It now seemed to number a few thousand strong, stampeding after him like bison. More of them sank their tiny fangs into his feet, tripping him up slightly, and strengthening his panic. They were going to catch him. If they caught him, he was going to die. It was really that simple. He tried to wave away the crowd around him, though that didn't have quite the effect he had intended. They waved back, cameras still in front of every eye, replacing the faces with rows of sharp plastic and glinting lenses. A few flashes went off. Shutters clicked, film whirred, piezoelectric speakers beeped.

A few of the rats were clinging to his legs now, and Danny found it harder and harder to move as they chewed away at his suit. He couldn't hold back anymore, and he shouted. "H-Help! Somebody help! _They're going to kill me!_ " There was a note of desperation in his voice, which the crowd responded to with cheers. The gnawing rodents dug deeper and found ectoplasm and blood, which began to run freely. Flash, flash. Click, whir, beep.

When they reached bone, he finally collapsed screaming. The spectators broke ranks and began to crowd around the edges of the swarm as the rats overtook his body entirely. Flash, flash. Click, whir, beep. The pain became more remote as his world began to fade to darkness.

 _"Oh crap, sorry I'm late!"_

Danny's eyes snapped open and he rolled over sharply, wide green eyes staring up at the source of the voice. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

He was alone on the asphalt, with Phantom standing over him. The bedsheeted ghost looked deeply apologetic, reaching a human hand down from under the linen to help him up. Danny took it in a gloved hand and clambered back onto his feet. As soon as he was upright, he shot his rescuer an annoyed look.

"Yeah, you know, no hurry. I was having such a great time, barely even noticed."

The ghost scoffed. "It's not my fault you've got such messed-up nightmares. Besides, I was busy, I didn't notice you'd started dreaming until you were about to wake up."

Danny finished dusting off his hazmat suit, now back in one tidy black-and-white piece. "Hmph. Well, I'm glad my pain apparently fuels your creative muse."

"Hey, that's not—"

"Look, whatever, it's fine. Are you ready to do this?"

"I mean, I guess? As ready as I'll ever be. To be honest champ, I really don't know what we're trying to do here."

The teen suppressed an eye-roll. "After the thing in the park two weeks ago, clearly we can somehow split into two. You said you could still control fireballs while I was off in the Ghost Zone, so I figure splitting up is the best way to help our odds in a fight. Especially if we're going to start dragging our friends into the line of fire." He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. "We've just got to figure out how to control it, so I don't get sucked back into our body the second we're close to each other."

"OK, that I get, but why practice in a _dream_? I know you said you had an easier time figuring out flight while you were asleep, but how are you even expecting to split away from me, when, hello," Phantom waved from under the sheet, "I'm already over here."

Danny smiled. "No, you aren't. We're both in bed right now, remember? So, here's my theory; I haven't been able to recreate that weird duplication trick while we're both awake and in one piece. But maybe us both standing here will convince my mind that we're already separate, and it'll be easier to do the whole out-of-body thing on purpose." He added uneasily, "I hope, anyway."

"And here Vonnegut made it sound so simple." Phantom chuckled to himself.

"...which one was that?"

"Remember that stack of old anthologies dad dragged out of the attic in February? It was in one of those. People left their bodies by thinking really hard about it and walking away."

"Oh, yeah." Danny paused for a moment, biting his lip. Then he turned sharply on his heel and experimentally walked a few steps down the road. When nothing happened, he tried again, ending up back next to Phantom.

The ghost grinned from under the sheet. "Anything? Feeling a bit more, I don't know, astrally-inclined?"

Danny cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, no. I didn't think it was gonna be that easy."

"So how else would you go about doing it?"

The teen sighed. "I don't know. With all this other ghost stuff I just kind of have to... Do it."

"Very descriptive!"

That earned him a look. "You know what I mean! It's like walking, you don't really _think_ about walking when you walk, and you can't walk by thinking about it. You just... Walk. Except it's like my brain can't figure out these powers on its own until you use them, and then I can follow your lead."

Phantom's grin faded. "Well. Sorry to let you down champ, but I don't think I would know where to start. Aside from that one weird time we don't even know if self-duplication is a thing that ghosts can _do._ " Oddly, he actually sounded legitimately put out.

"Hey, it's fine." Danny paused for a moment, not wanting to put too much pressure on the ghost. This was his crazy idea, after all. "Just try to do whatever you were doing then, and I'll try to figure out what I did, OK?"

The cheeky smile returned. "Well, that'll be easy enough. I was half asleep when you did your disappearing act." He sank back in a beach chair that had been willed into existence next to them, folding his arms behind his head. "Wake me up if you manage to go walkabout or whatever."

And he tried. Danny had paced back-and-forth searching for the feelings and sensations he had experienced when he had left his body, but without success. Every time he tried reaching back into his memories, he just hit one dead end after another. It felt like he had been trying for hours, although Danny realized time was kind of a loose concept here; the sun hadn't moved at all from its position overhead. Eventually, Phantom stirred, propping his head up on an arm to look at his human.

"Still no luck, huh champ?" the ghost asked gently.

Danny stopped his pacing and looked at his counterpart. He noted with some amusement that with how Phantom was lounging, the sheet rode up enough to reveal the conspicuously ordinary white-and-red t-shirt the ghost was wearing. It improved his mood enough for him to swallow the sour reply he had been preparing.

"No, I guess not. I just... Can't quite find the right feeling." With a sigh he dropped to the pavement next to the other's chair, sitting cross-legged. "It's frustrating, you know. Knowing you _should_ be able to do something, but feeling like it's just out of reach."

Phantom sat up and patted him on the shoulder. "Well, hey, you tried. You know, it might be that this is one thing you need to do while we're awake." He paused for a moment, before adding "I'm going to check something, be right back."

The specter disappeared from view, and Danny thought he felt the world shift subtly under him. When Phantom returned, he looked amused to see that Danny had occupied his vacated chair. "So, it's 6:35 up there. Want to wake up early or just wait for the alarm?"

The teen groaned and leaned into the canvas back. "Ugh, no thanks. With the week it's been I think I'll take the whole 8 hours of sleep, thanks. Maybe I'll fly around a bit or something. See how much of Amity Park my mind thought to build up before throwing rats at me."

"You know, if you ever wanted proof that you're too hard on yourself, look no further than your own subconscious." Phantom chuckled, floating off. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to—"

"Wait, Phantom..." The teen got out of the chair and stood to face the ghost.

"Yeah, what's up?" He dropped back to Danny's eye-level. From his human's tone, it seemed like he wanted to get something serious off his chest.

And indeed, Danny was giving him a very serious look. "You had better not be planning to go take us for another cold shower." The ghost cackled. "I'm serious! I nearly broke my neck yesterday morning."

"Hey, your fault for panicking. Where's the harm in waking up to a chill? It's good for the soul!" When the glare didn't lessen, he crossed his heart. "Fine, I won't dunk you in cold water today. Enjoy the flight!"

He popped out of existence again, leaving Danny to his thoughts for a moment as he soared over the labyrinthine city of his dreams.

At least, until he woke up with a yelp under a stream of steaming hot water.

* * *

The day passed in the blink of an eye, although Danny remained fully conscious throughout it. As far as he could tell, it had been fully two weeks since his last "lapse". The first few nights, he tried going over his entire day in his mind searching for discontinuities; it had just seemed too good to be true. After the fifth day in a row he was forced to conclude that maybe, just maybe, he was in the clear. Even the aches and pains had cleared up.

That is, with the exception of a headache he was currently nursing. Danny blamed it on Lancer's dry lecture on an equally dry Hemingway novel, although he suspected tonight's planned activities wouldn't help it much. They hadn't planned to meet for another three hours, yet here they were, outside of Fentonworks, two of the three teens quite excited to get started.

"So, to be clear. I go in, grab some gear, then we... What, exactly?"

Sam and Tucker stopped in their tracks to face him. The goth spoke first. "What do you mean, 'what'? We go ghost hunting."

"...wait, that's it? That's the whole plan?"

Tucker chimed in, "Well yeah, just... I don't know, use your ghost powers and find a practice ghost."

 _"Well, glad we got that cleared up."_

"...Guys, I don't think you've thought this through. I can't just _find_ a ghost, let alone a _specific_ ghost. The last three were like half dumb luck and half following trails of destruction."

 _"I guess... You know, there is another option. It'll save time if I explain it to all three of you; mind if I...?"_

"Oh, totally, go ahead." Danny let go of his body in a maneuver that was, by now, well-practiced. The looks of confusion on his friends' faces were replaced by surprise when his eyes flared to a shocking green, the unusual glow they gave off partially visible even under the late afternoon sun.

 _"...Do you always have to do the dramatic scary-eyes?"_

Phantom, or rather Danny, grinned. 'It's worth it for the reactions, champ.'

Tucker had actually taken a step back. "Dude, I am never going to get used to that."

"Hey, I love you too man." Danny shot his friend a wink and let out a short, barking laugh.

 _"So about that point you wanted to make."_

"Right, that. I noticed the last couple of times we were near ghosts, I got this weird... Tingly feeling."

Sam looked dubious. "A... Tingly feeling."

"Yeah, it was weird. It was like the air got kind of chilly, but the feeling was just in my chest, I guess? Like, the temperature hadn't really changed, but there was this spot where it felt like I was cold."

 _"Wow, you're right. I'm really glad I didn't have to try to pass this message along."_

He scowled at that. "OK, so I'm probably not making a whole lot of sense, but the upshot here is that I can probably let Danny know when we're getting near a ghost by monitoring this... This, uh..."

"Ghost sense?" Tucker offered.

"Sure, we can go with that."

"Great!" Sam slung her arms around both of her friend's necks, with a broad grin. "So as long as we've got that sorted out, how about we go out and kick some ghost butt?"

Danny returned the smile. "What better way to spend a Friday night, right?"

Soon, he was making their way through the living room carefully, listening for any alarms or movement in the lab below. It was their first time with him controlling the body so close to the ghost detection equipment downstairs, but the house remained silent as a tomb. There was no sign of any of its human occupants, either.

 _"I think Jazz said she was going to be at the library today."_

'I guess mom and dad must be upstairs in the Ops Center, then?'

Fenton gave a mental nod. _"Yeah. If not, the RV was still parked out back, so they can't have gone far."_

'So what you're saying is, be careful. Got it.'

* * *

The lab was indeed completely empty, and the ghost teen took full advantage of that to poke through the equipment locker. It was absolutely _full_ of junk, ranging from the benign soup thermos and a perfectly ordinary baseball bat, to the charred remains of the infamous turkey cooker. The upper shelves were a little bit more to his liking; he managed to pocket two pistol-shaped ectoblasters and three sets of wireless earphones before he heard the door from the kitchen bang open.

From the heavy footfalls, Danny knew without looking that his dad was down the stairs in a second. "Hey, Danno! Have you seen the box of electromagnets around here, we have a bit of a situ—" Jack stopped short as if just seeing Danny, and the open locker doors.

'Hey champ, you've got this from here, right?'

 _"Wait a second, what—"_ The teen had to leap to catch his body, which nearly fell over as the ghost suddenly released control.

He turned nervously, blue eyes meeting those of his father. "Oh, uh, hey dad."

The man just looked confused. "Danny, what are you doing going through the weapons locker?"

"I, uh... Am... Just, super interested in ghosts. And hunting."

Jack Fenton looked like all his Christmases had come at once.

And a moment later, Sam and Tucker had been dragged inside, and the two sat next to Danny while his dad paced in front of them.

"So, Danny. You and your little friends want to hunt ghosts."

* * *

Author's Note:

 _And here begins Part II. I hope the second half of this chapter does not seem too contrived, but I did wish to make some nod toward canonical events, and now seemed the opportune moment. Start at the beginning, and suchlike._

 _Actually, speaking of halves, I hope the first half of this chapter did not seem too **weird**. I think I say this same thing every time I write a nightmare/dream sequence, and yet with each new opportunity, I feel the need to outdo my previous efforts. In real life, dreams are such a wonderful way for our brains to say not very much of anything, but this being fiction, obviously it is an ideal opportunity for heavy-handed symbolism and little Fenton-Phantom bonding moments._

 _01/12/16 - Small fixes._


	16. Chapter 13

_Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk, ka-chunk. Ka-chunk!_

Sam pulled the staple gun away from the poster, wearing the same scowl she had given the last 37 they had put up.

"You know Sam, you don't need to bother with all the staples. I'm going to be flying around tearing these down as soon as nightfall hits anyway."

"Yeah, what better way to spend a Friday night?" The question was bitterly sarcastic, but Danny just chuckled while his ghost gave a silent huff of annoyance.

"Could be worse. I think Tuck got the short end of the stick here." He gestured across the street, where their friend was walking with Danny's parents, carrying an identical stack of papers while Maddie stapled them up on telephone poles. Jack seemed to be regaling Tucker with some sort of story that required elaborate, highly involved hand gestures. Danny gave a small wave when he caught the other boy's eye and received only a glare in response.

"Point. But really, how are you not more freaked out about this?" She grabbed the next poster and held it up for him to see. "This is kind of pretty bad."

The majority of the glossy page was taken up with the picture of Danny, disguised as Phantom, zooming away from a warehouse fire. Under that was a bold, red warning.

 _ **Have you seen this ghost?**_

 _Remain calm, and do **not** approach it!_

 _The ghost pictured above, known as "D. Phantom", should be treated as armed and extremely dangerous. This entity is suspected to have been involved in multiple instances of theft, vandalism, kidnapping, and arson. Ghosts have no regard for human life and will not hesitate to injure or kill if challenged._

 _Instead, get to safety, and call **Fentonworks: Professional Ghost Hunters**_

 _Phone: 326-GHOST-TIP_

 _Facsimile: 326-GHOST-FAX_

 _Toll-Free: 1-899-ECTO-BUST_

"Yeah, thanks, Sam, I've seen it. I'm kind of carrying a stack of these things, remember?" He paused while she stopped to staple the poster to the pole, and continued as they walked to the next one. "If I seem calm it's probably just because I was _pretty sure_ my parents were going to have us obliterating ghosts with deadly weapons. So, you know, in comparison this is nice."

"And what if somebody _recognizes_ you or something?"

"I mean... It doesn't look that much like me, really. And the lighting is bad."

 _"...I hate to break it to you champ, but it looks_ exactly _like you. And I don't just mean that in the 'it's a picture of you so by definition it does look like you' sense, either."_

"OK, fine, but if my actual parents managed to get these posters designed and printed off without realizing it was me in the photo, what are the odds anyone ever will?"

Sam didn't say anything to that, and not just because it seemed like Danny was having two conversations at once again. He was incredibly grateful that his friends had stopped pointing out when he did that, although Danny was on the fence about whether or not their silence made him feel even crazier.

'You know, maybe "crazy" can work to my advantage here.'

 _"How do you figure that?"_

'If we're being honest here, everyone thinks my parents are out of their minds, right? Only crazy people believe in ghosts.'

 _"Well, they sure don't get any calls on the tip line from people who go to PTA meetings."_

'Exactly! So most people will ignore these pictures, and if anybody recognizes me at all, it'll be some lunatic. I don't really need to worry at all, do I?'

 _"I'm not sure it's such a great idea to count on that, I mean—"_

The ghost was cut off by their father's booming voice, the other half of "Team Fenton" approaching them from across the street. "So, Danny-boy, how many posters did you and Sam put up?"

"Oh, uh..." He rifled through the stack he was holding, counting up the remainder. "41. Why, do you want to call it a night...?" Danny couldn't quite stop a hopeful tone from creeping into the question.

"Yeah! Your mother and I thought we oughta treat you kids to dinner since you've been such hard little workers."

Sam's eyes widened in terror. Danny suspected her memories of The Christmas Turkey Incident of 2002 must be still all too raw. "N-no, that's fine Mr. Fenton! Tucker and I wouldn't want to impose!" From her side, Tucker was nodding enthusiastic agreement.

Jack looked downcast, before he said with a snap, "Oh! That's right, you're some kind of vegan, right? Well, don't worry, there's gotta be a pizza place in this town that does... Tofu pizza? I don't know _what_ you eat, but we'll find it!"

"So dad, just to be clear here, you're suggesting we all go out for pizza, and not cooking anything at home?" When he got an answer in the affirmative, Danny barely suppressed a laugh at the immediate look of relaxation on both of his friends' faces. This wouldn't be such a bad Friday after all.

His ghost gave him a cheeky grin. _"Careful champ, you'll jinx it."_

* * *

True to his word, Danny's dad managed to find a pizza place halfway across town that sold vegan pizza. At Jack Fenton's driving speed, the five of them had their food in hand and arrived back at Fentonworks within half an hour.

Sitting in the kitchen, what started off as polite dinner conversation turned to the subject of ghost hunting, and quite suddenly four of the participants were talking in clipped sentences or just gave monosyllabic answers. Eventually, even the elder Fentons noticed the lack of enthusiasm in the topic, and an uneasy silence developed. Danny was staring at a half-finished slice of pepperoni when Jazz cleared her throat.

"I have a question about ghosts, actually."

Oh no. She was going to bring up the elephant in the room, wasn't she? Danny cringed, wanting to bury himself in his hands, but he reasonably suspected that might draw too much attention.

"What is it, Jazzypants?"

"We-ll, you guys were saying every ghost is... _evil_ , right? But you've never actually really talked with one. How can you, well, know? I guess," she finished awkwardly, suddenly very interested in drumming her fingers on the tabletop. Both Sam and Tucker had their eyes on Danny, who wasn't entirely sure he was still breathing.

Both Maddie and Jack were very clearly taken aback. While the latter looked a bit like a fish out of water, the former furrowed her brow and thought for a moment. "Jazz, honey, do you know what sets us apart from other animals?"

At her daughter's upraised eyebrow, she answered her own question. "We can _feel_. We have emotions and connections to others. All of that keeps us grounded, you see. Certainly, we have our logical faculties and our reason, but... Well, 'More often have I see a cat reason than laugh or weep,' as they say. Ghosts don't have that ability. They're a pure imprint of the human consciousness, not bounded by things like love or morality."

Jazz made some attempt to interrupt, but Maddie pressed on. "As such, they merely pursue their goals relentlessly without regard for anything but themselves. They may have been human, but you can't be fooled by that. A ghost is just a vile shadow of humanity."

"That's why it's important we hunt these things down, Jazzy." Danny's gaze swiveled to his father, who had finally found his voice. He didn't particularly like the man's expression of mixed revulsion and hatred. "If those scumbags had their way, we'd all be dead."

His sister finally managed to interrupt. "But you don't _know_ if that's true of all of them! You've only seen half a dozen ghosts in your lives, you've never gotten to know one without shooting at it, _and_ your theory on the formation of a ghost's mind isn't borne out by what we know about the structure of the human brain! And besides, what about that..." She shot Danny a meaningful glance. He attempted to convey with a slight head shake and wide eyes that he would rather she stop talking, a signal she either misunderstood or ignored. "What about that... Phantom, I think is his name? He's been nothing but helpful!"

Maddie chuckled at that. "Sweetie, Phantom is a vandal and a thug, you know that. It may not have made any serious attacks on human life yet, but it will. Just wait and see."

Jack leaned over to place an arm around his partner's shoulders, gazing into her eyes with determination. "Not if we stop it first, sweet pea. We're _going_ to catch that ghost before he can hurt anyone else, and when we do..."

Danny realized he was gripping the table tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. Sam had placed her hand gently over his own in a failed attempt to get him to relax, but the next words out of his father's mouth made that next to impossible.

"And when we do, I'm going to rip him apart."

"Molecule,"

"By _molecule_!"

Danny sat up suddenly, sending the chair skidding back across the linoleum, and eliciting five startled looks. "Not feeling so good... Gonna... I'm... Bathroom." As he was walking through the living room to the stairs, he didn't even care if they had actually heard his mumbled excuses. He just needed to get out of that room.

* * *

 _"Ugh, how many of these did we put up again?"_

'I think this one,' he grabbed a poster as they flew past, tearing it away with a satisfying _riiiiiiip!_ 'makes 73. The last 10 should be down on Roslyn Avenue, left here.' Danny clutched the stack of freshly liberated papers against their chest as Phantom guided them through a graceful arc, just feet above the pavement below. '...your other left. Do you need me to fly?'

 _"Oh, shut up. It's late."_ He did a back flip to correct their course, snickering as it elicited a sharp inhale from the human.

A quick flight up and down the street took care of those with relative ease. They hadn't run into a soul during their entire flight; the drizzly weather was bad enough that they seemed to have the city to themselves, even at 10 pm. As much as he was enjoying the flight, even Danny himself was keen to get back inside and away from the dampness and the oppressive orange glow reflecting off the puffy rainstorm above.

Apparently Phantom disagreed. _"We don't have to go back straight away, do we? I figure we've earned a break, and I think I know how we should spend it."_

The teen barely managed to keep a hold of the posters as his body suddenly rocketed skyward into the stifling blanket of clouds. A few minutes of chilly, damp flight later, they broke through the top. _"Here we are."_

Danny was awestruck. High above the city, with the storm below blocking out the light pollution, he had the best view of the stars he had seen for years. Why hadn't they thought to try this weeks ago? He was still gaping at the sight when Phantom phased the dew off of them. _"So, what do you think? Good view?"_ It was asked as a question, but it was really more of a statement. Although... Something seemed wrong, somehow.

Then it struck him; Phantom was being nice to him.

 _Too nice._

 _"Come on, am I not allowed to do myself a favor every once in a while?"_

Danny didn't bother responding. Presumably, the ulterior motive would present itself in time. While he waited, well... The moonless sky was still a sight to behold.

 _"So, listen, I've been thinking."_

Ah, there it was. '...you heard what they said at dinner.'

 _"I haven't even told you my idea yet!"_

'And _I_ have better pattern recognition than you think!'

 _"Look, I know you're going to think I'm overstepping here, but— and don't you dare interrupt, this is important to me!"_ Danny bit back his protest. His ghostly partner sounded more serious than he had ever heard the specter. _"But, don't I get any say in this? They're my parents too, champ, and..."_

They began to drop out of the sky, as Phantom collected his thoughts. 13 heartbeats, even as slow as they came in ghost form, passed before he spoke again. _"It hurts, hearing them talking about hating me. I know you feel it too, but you're still the_ human. _They could never hate_ you, _not really."_

'...you don't know that. They'd probably think I've been _tainted_ or something.'

 _"Yeah, well, imagine how they'd treat the taint-er. They'll want to slice me out like a tumor."_

'And I don't want that to happen! What do you think they'll do if they find out?!'

They had finally reached the ground. With a sigh, the ghost walked them over to a park bench and sat down, before handing control of the legs back to Danny. _"They're going to find out one way or another. How long do you think we can go without getting caught, exactly? The only thing we can control are the circumstances."_

Danny scoffed, attempting a weak smile. "Yeah, well, they won't be catching me anytime soon."

In response, he heard a loud crack echo through the night, and then nothing.

* * *

The first thing he registered was that the headache he had been nursing was now a thousand times worse. The second, when he groggily opened green eyes, was an ectoplasm-stained baseball bat leaning against a glass wall.

 _"Well, we're waking up in the Fenton Containment Cell. Our head hurts, and you're wearing a black hazmat suit. Did I miss anything?"_ the ghost asked dryly.

"Not the time for humor..." Danny's voice was weak and raspy. With no little amount of effort, he managed to roll over onto his back and sit up. His head was swimming on the ascent.

"Jack, it's awake." The statement would have frozen the blood in his veins, if he were currently human.

"Great! I'll grab the Fenton Blaster!"

Danny was on his feet in an instant and turned around. His mother was standing, arms crossed, face drawn into a frown, staring at him from behind red goggles. He found himself walking backward until he bumped into the opposite wall. That was just as well because he suddenly felt faint and had to lean against the glass to remain upright.

"W-wait, M-Mrs. Fenton, I can explain!"

"That's **Dr. Fenton** to you, _Phantom_!" The word was said with the same voice Danny could remember her once using to say _parasite_. "And you can 'explain' all you like once you've left my son's body!"

Danny was speechless. His ghost, unfortunately, was not.

 _"...I won't say I told you so. But that wasn't entirely unexpected, now was it?"_

* * *

Author's Note:

 _A partial list of things I have researched while writing this fanfiction, which very few (if any) readers would have noticed or cared about, had I not bothered:_

 _\- The phase of the moon at the time of the story, and the associated sunrise/sunset and moonrise/moonset times for the location  
_ _\- The date Hanukkah fell on in 2002  
_ _\- North American Numbering Plan area codes and proposed extensions  
_ _\- The recoil from a 5-gram mass accelerating over 10 cm to a speed of 4000 m/s  
_ _\- First aid procedures for deep skin punctures on the leg  
_ _\- The average weight of an American 14 year old male  
_ _\- Characters in 2000's_ Remember the Titans

 _I have a problem. Perhaps I am in need of a 12-step program for people who obsess over minutiae?_


	17. Chapter 14

"What, um... What makes you think I've possessed your son? I don't even know Danny."

"Spare me, ghost. You just said his name."

"Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I did. Heh." The laugh was forced, and Danny rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "But just because I know _of_ him doesn't mean I _am_ him, does it?"

"And you just so _happened_ to know exactly where your 'friend' was, before you let it out?"

"Hey, I sent him into the ghost zone and told him to not come back! And he hasn't yet, has he?"

If she heard him, she didn't show it. "And I _suppose_ it's just a coincidence that you look exactly like my son? Maybe I should head up to his bedroom right now. Will I find him in bed, I wonder?"

"If you're so sure about all this, why didn't you do anything ages ago?!" Danny tried to put a scowl on his face and crossed his arm in a vain attempt to hide his growing panic. "If I was your son, or... Or _controlling_ your son or something, I've been under your roof this whole time."

"We didn't _know_ until Dr. Fenton informed me he had caught my son trying to make off with our ghost hunting equipment. Do you know what happened then, ghost? Danny froze up and his brain conjured up the first excuse it could find to explain what was happening. Typical post-possession justification behavior." Maddie smiled like a Cheshire cat looking at a deeply unlucky squeaky toy. "Unfortunately, you chose perhaps the worst Fenton to possess if you wanted to insert yourself into our ghost hunting operations. Danny has _never_ cared about hunting down scum like you. I wonder what he'll think when he finds out what you've done to him, hmm?"

 _"So you know how you think you're really great at lying to our parents? I think you've been overestimating yourself a bit."_

'Hmph. Yeah, and so have you.'

 _"Maybe, but lying was never my plan in the first place. Since that's clearly failed, how about we just go with the truth?"_

Danny threw his hands into the air in defeat. "OK, fine. You want the truth?" he asked, kicking off of the wall, and ignoring the pounding in his head.

"I could fill a _book_ with what I want from you," she spat back.

"Yeah, maybe hold off on the gory details, because here's the thing. I'm not _possessing_ your son, I _am_ your son. I'm in control of my own body, even with all the ghost stuff."

"And just how do you propose a human teenager could _become_ a ghost, without dying first?"

"How did _you_ think I got the portal working? I tripped a switch inside the thing, and I don't remember much between that and getting blasted out like a cannonball. But I guess the ecto-whatever hit me pretty hard, because trust me, acting ghostly is the _least weird_ thing that's happened since."

"I suppose... Theoretically..." A moment of silence passed where her face seemed to flit from anger, to deep thought, to confusion, and finally settled on an artificial calm. "OK, 'Danny'. Let's say you're telling the truth. Obviously, you would know Danny's favorite color, right?"

"Yeah, I like blue."

"And his middle initial?"

"'J', same as Grandpa Chester."

"Fine, how about the name of his younger sister?"

"...What? I don't have a younger sister."

She frowned. "You could have gotten all that from his long-term memory when you first began possessing him. Something more recent, then. This morning the _real_ Danny asked to do something crazy, and I said no. What was it?"

Now this was getting personal. "I wanted to go to the _Stand And Deliver_ concert in Pittsburgh next month, but apparently that's a bridge too far. Even though it's only two hours away!" He caught himself pouting, and quickly tried to look more serious before she noticed.

"...that still doesn't prove anything."

Jack had reappeared at her side holding a particularly deadly looking piece of armament. He scratched his chin for a moment, apparently evaluating the response. "You know Mads, we never did find out if ghosts can read minds or not." He had said it in what he probably considered a whisper, then turned to Danny. "Ghost! I will think about a number between 1 and 10, and I will let you go free if you can guess what it is!"

"I can tell already you're not going to do that even if I do get it right." '...this is getting us nowhere.'

Phantom did his best to be heard, over Jack exclaiming that the ghost really did have psychic powers. _"The problem is trust, champ. You're at a bit of a disadvantage right now, but if you can fix that in less than two days you'll beat my speed record."_

This whole situation was getting out of control. Actually, scratch that; it _was_ out of control. He was locked in an enormous fish-tank, glowing like a paper lantern, and watching his parents arguing about whether or not he was a mind-reader. He could just about see the humor in the situation if he looked at it as if it was happening to some other poor soul.

Sadly, it was happening to him. He sighed. 'Well, I wasn't _really_ planning on getting dissected this weekend. Any suggestions?'

 _"They can't get past the whole 'ghost' thing, right? A_ human _might have better luck."_

Well, there was an idea. "Hey, mom, dad?" He didn't get a response. His dad was loudly defending his theory about information transmission through higher dimensions, while his mother was firing back with something about neuroimaging. Danny had survived enough Christmases to know that they could go for hours when they got like this, so he whistled sharply to get their attention.

Two murderous glares descended upon him. Good enough. "Fine, you don't believe me. But 'Danny' will tell you the same thing, just watch." Mentally, he groped around in the dark until he found the warm blue spark of humanity, and he grappled for it with everything he had. The odd warmth spread to his entire body as a ring of light burst forth from his midsection, splitting into two and traveling toward the ends of his ghostly form; in a matter of seconds, where Phantom had been, Fenton now stood.

He estimated that his headache was now about a million times worse, and he felt like he was going to fall over, but he still stepped toward his shocked parents. It seemed important to maintain eye contact. "You see? No possession, no evil ghosts. I'm _still your son_."

While Jack seemed to still be processing the transformation, Maddie responded after a brief pause. Unlike a moment ago, her tone was softer, more cautious than hostile. "Just... Stay calm, honey. Until we can perform some scans to ensure there is no ectoplasmic residue in your brain or spinal cord, we can't be sure you aren't still being controlled by any ghostly entities."

 _"Yeah, they're definitely going to find some of that. ...hey, are you OK champ?"_

Danny was not OK. As a matter of fact, he was pissed off. He had completely exhausted all options he could think of to prove his innocence. His parents might have recognized his photo, but they couldn't see their own son standing right in front of them. It was immensely frustrating. He moved to begin pacing in the small cell when he felt the tearing feeling.

It was as if he was watching it from afar, rather than through his own eyes; the human form of Danny Fenton stayed perfectly still, and the ghostly form of Danny Phantom walked out of his back. When the event finally registered, they both spun around to face each other in mute horror, the world seeming to freeze up for just a moment.

The next thing Danny knew, the specter's eyes rolled back in his head, the unconscious form falling forward. At first, it looked like he was just going to hit the floor, but as it fell the form seemed to dissolve into a lightly glowing mist. The nebulous gas was pulled toward the portal, passing straight through the cell wall, some beakers, and a lab bench along the way; it had disappeared behind the swirling green miasma before I had a chance to breathe, let alone process what I was seeing.

Which left me in a very unintentional, and _very_ awkward situation. Because as my other half was swallowed whole by the ghost zone, I stayed right here; standing in the middle of the stupid tank, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and looking as alive as the day we were born. I probably looked as shocked and horrified at Danny's disappearance as mom and dad looked relieved.

In a moment, they had swung the cell's lone door open, and I was gripped into a bone-crushing hug. I may have had no idea what the _hell_ had just happened, but I knew this wasn't going to be a fun conversation.

* * *

Did I actually suck at explaining things, or was it just impossible to talk around over-protective parents? It was hard to tell, but at some point I'd been sat down at the kitchen table, wrapped in a blanket, and been force-fed half a mug of warm tea before I could get a word in edgewise.

As soon as my parents pulled back, I set the mug down. Much like last time, I could still feel Danny's mind inside our head, in a fashion. It just seemed distant. That didn't guarantee he was safe, though, and I didn't know what kind of time Danny had. There was simply no time for this tea-and-blankets nonsense.

...It wasn't even _good_ tea. It somehow managed to just taste like bitter water. Sort of like when we got sick as kids, and Mom had to crush up adult Tylenol and gave it to us mixed into a glass of water. Maybe I should have taken the teabag out...? But I supposed that didn't matter so much, all things considered. Priorities. "Guys, will you please listen to me? There's something I need to tell you!"

"What is it, Danno?"

I sighed. Dad looked a bit worried. He had been in the middle of a no-doubt fascinating tale about their ghost portal research back in college. I suppose he must have known this was serious since my human very rarely interrupted the man in the middle of his stories. Mom just looked up from her clipboard, pen poised to add to the already extensive notes she had taken since we arrived in the kitchen.

"Look, do you remember what he... All that stuff I said about how I've always been in full control of my body? Even with the uh, ghost?"

Dad's reassuring smile was back. He looked much more normal with it than without, which was nice. "It's alright son, you don't have to explain that to us! You were just being forced to say it by that ghost kid!"

"Here's the thing. That was the truth."

No, I really must be bad at explaining things, because that had sounded unconvincing even to me. As _both_ my parents began explaining why it was impossible, I found myself wishing there was a way to do this non-verbally. I gave him a hard time about his awkwardness, but honestly, Danny was much better at the spoken word. This would have been so much easier with him around, but since that was impossible, I just rubbed my temples to try to chase away that damned headache long enough to come up with a Plan B.

...actually, there _was_ a way to do this non-verbally, wasn't there? I would have smacked myself if I wasn't in quite enough pain already. Once again I interrupted mom and dad. "OK, OK, I get how crazy this sounds, but... Listen, we really need to get 'Danny Phantom'," air-quotes for effect, "out of the ghost zone."

"Why _on earth_ would we want to do that?" Now my mom just sounded exasperated. I'm not sure how much of that was because I had interrupted her little biochemistry lesson, and how much was because of the obvious insanity of what I had just suggested. But what else do you do when you're a stranger in a strange land? Just embrace that insanity.

"Because I'm not the son you know." With a flick of my hand, I dropped a ball of bright green flame into the mug, where it sat burning on top of the tea. Looking at my parents, I could tell it was the first thing either Danny or I had said all night they _believed._

* * *

The room was pitch dark. At least, Danny thought it was a room.

It was neither particularly hot nor cold, and he couldn't feel any air movement, suggesting he was in a closed space. He floated down carefully until his feet made contact with the ground, which seemed smooth. From these observations combined with the lack of apparent acceleration, it stood to reason that he was indoors, and not in a moving vehicle. The darkness was a bit harder to explain. If he had been floating, it was quite probable he was in his ghost form. Between the glowing body and the weak night vision, he should be able to see at least a few feet in front of him.

At the thought, a cone of light flicked on from above, the sound breaking the heavy silence. Danny took a few steps forward, the spotlight following him as he went. After the fifth step, his foot failed to meet the ground and he nearly tilted forward into the dark abyss beyond; he heard a chuckle in the distance at that.

He turned to face the source of the sound, as best he could. "Hello? Is somebody there?"

"Of course," came an echoed reply.

Danny took a few steps back at that. The response seemed to have come from much closer than it should have. His reaction elicited another hollow laugh.

"Scared of the dark, are we? It's not me you should be afraid of, you know."

"W-who are you? And where am I?"

"Hmm. Would it be too glib if I said 'Danny Fenton, on both counts'?"

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"Of course it does. Come now, use your logic; you know perfectly well that this is a dream. You must know that because _I_ know it, and I'm just a figment of your imagination."

"Dreams aren't usually self-aware."

"Gold star for you! But, you're awfully deep right now, so we get to chat. Presumably, this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been trying to protect that monster. You know, he's probably already taken over your body and made his move to usurp you. Or maybe he's already killed your family. You never can tell with these things, can you?"

"What? Phantom would never do that!"

"Oh, but he would." The other—which Danny simply couldn't believe was "himself" as it claimed—sounded giddy. It had moved from the indeterminate distance, to hover right next to his ear. It seemed as though he could only ever see it in his peripheral vision; the form of a teenager about his size, but... Fuzzy. As if a shadow had been spread into three dimensions. "You know he's lying to you about _something_ , don't you. Why don't you ever confront him? Are you perhaps scared of the truth?"

He had no response to that, so the shadow continued. "You know what he's capable of."

One by one, more spotlights clicked on above the space. The first illuminated the form of Sam bleeding out on a sidewalk. The second, Dash being reduced to a pile of ashes. The next, Tucker lying broken against the floor. He tried in vain to run, but on and on the lights went, showing scenes of death and destruction wherever he turned. Danny couldn't believe any of it was true, but at the moment, it _was_. Everyone and everything he cared about lay before him dying, all because of _him._ Not Phantom, but _him._

The shadow followed him as he went, always floating just within sight and just out of view. It leaned in close to ask, "Scared yet?" The question was rhetorical, evidently. The lights blinked off, and the horrors disappeared with them. He was left alone in the blackness once again. "Because I would be."

When Danny opened teary eyes again, he was lying in the middle of a street, watching snowflakes falling from the fiery orange sky.

There was little left to do but start the long walk home.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _Re: "So..how did they guess who he was?" -Guest_

 _This story takes place in an alternate universe where Jack and Maddie are attentive enough to notice that Danny Phantom looks exactly like their son (albeit with different hair and eye color), although they were slightly wrong about how the two were related. A departure from canon, yes, but one I tried to telegraph. Phantom and Danny had both raised the possibility, in Chapter 13 and Ripped from the Head Lines respectively._

 _Just call me "Fräulein Foreshadowing"._

 _I must also apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out. Honestly, this is not where it was originally going to end, but I have found myself rather stuck on the last few story beats I had planned. Those have since been shuffled to join the next chapter instead, not for the first time in this story, and I suspect not for the last._

 _To bring this ramble of an author's note to a close; I hope you are all well. Mere days remain until the holiday season kicks off in earnest, which is the other part of the reason for the delay. Finding time to write seems like a luxury, on certain days. This too shall pass. Until then, I believe I should declare "Disconnected" to be officially_ _ **on hiatus**_ _. Chapter 15 (half-written though it is) will likely not be published until on or around New Year's Eve. This is roughly the same as the gap we have just experienced, but at least now it is a formal one, yes?_


	18. Chapter 15

The revelation wasn't going quite how I planned.

With retrospect, I could see how my statement could have been misconstrued, although I have often heard having your life threatened can be a deeply clarifying moment. Mom stood suddenly enough to unbalance her seat, and she had grabbed an experimental coil-gun that was _apparently_ strapped to the underside of the table and had it pointed at me before the chair finished clattering to the floor. Once my hands were 'up where she could see them', my dad ran downstairs to grab more equipment, since apparently the recoil on the strange looking weapon would probably break a few bones in her hands if fired. That being the case, I had been asked to imagine what it would do to my chest.

"...so can I ask you a question?"

"No."

"How long have you had a gun taped up under the kitchen table? And actually, why did you pick the _least safe_ weapon in the house?"

"Did you not think that perhaps if you were going to ask anyway, you shouldn't waste my time by asking for permission?"

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "It's good manners, isn't it?"

"What could _possibly_ be humorous? You're completely surrounded, ghost."

"Nothing, you just reminded me of something Danny and I talked about."

"Oh?" I noticed she was fidgeting with the hand on the grip. "What was that?"

...well, it appeared I was now facing "Intrigued Maddie" rather than "Murderous Maddie". Neither of them was _mom_ , per se, but I'd take what I could get.

"He was asking me about some of the body pain we—"

" _So help me, if you hurt one hair on his head-!_ "

And here, we had the intersection between the two Maddies. "No! Of course not, but we _did_ get knocked around during the portal accident. We talked about it briefly, not that he was particularly upfront about things..."

"Of course he wasn't, he knows better than to tell a ghost anything."

"Ah, but I'm not just any ghost, I'm _his_ ghost."

"A likely story, but a living person couldn't possibly be dead. It's a perfect contradiction. The only thing I don't understand is how you got him to believe your inane story to begin with."

"I _earned_ the privilege to tell inane stories, thank you. And as a matter of fact, he trusts me just as much as I trust him." OK, that might have been stretching the truth a little. I was trying not to take it personally, but even as I said it I could practically feel the distrust flaring up over in Danny's mind.

"Whoa, wait a second..." I furrowed my brow in confusion. That couldn't have been right, it would have had to have been a very powerful outburst on his part to make up for the "distance", if last time was any indication.

That was what made the pulse-pounding terror he felt next that much worse.

"OK, mom, it's official," I talked right over her protest at the title, "I can tell Danny's in trouble. He needs our help _right now_. If there is any way for you to get us to him, I will literally lead you there, and I don't care _what_ you do or don't do once he's safe."

She seemed as unsure as I seemed desperate.

" _Please._ "

She clenched up a bit. "You first, down the stairs. And keep those hands up."

So, still no trust, but at least we had a common goal now. I'd take what I could get.

* * *

The street seemed familiar, as were the muffled sounds of carols being sung from somewhere behind him. Danny clambered to his feet and turned around, finding some solace in the familiar shape of the Michigan Avenue Church. A few late arrivals passed by the nativity scene on the snowy front lawn, and as the doors opened and closed to admit them the caroling briefly became clearer.

It probably wasn't September anymore. On the plus side, he was only a few blocks from his house. That seemed like the place to go. He couldn't really put his finger on _why,_ but he set off walking. He was pleasantly surprised to note that as he made his way to the sidewalk and started off down the street, almost everyone he passed gave him a warm smile and a "Merry Christmas" or a "Happy Holidays". Danny did his best to return the well-wishings, in spite of his overall view of the holiday, if only because not having people run from him on sight was surprisingly refreshing.

After half a block, he turned onto his own street. While Danny couldn't remember Michigan intersecting with Concord Avenue before today, he was willing to overlook whatever strange activity had rotated his neighborhood 90 degrees since it would get him home faster than usual.

The front door was unlocked, and he swung it open. His living room looked warm and inviting after the walk out in the cold, although he hadn't really noticed the temperature before just now.

Only once he was inside and the door had shut itself behind him did he realize he wasn't alone. "Oh, hey Sam." Danny made his way over to the couch and sat down across from her. "What brings you here?"

She shrugged, and kept chewing. She was holding a set of chopsticks and a plate of food; it looked like the #53 Szechuan Tofu with Mixed Vegetables. Seeing his friend doing something so benign and yet undeniably _alive_ was pretty much the perfect antidote to what he had just been through. Danny smiled at her until she caught his gaze. "What're you looking at me for?"

"Nothing, sorry... It's just good to see a friendly face."

"Had a bit of a day there, Ebeneezer Fenton? You haven't been visited by three ghosts, have you?"

He shuddered. "Yeah, something like that."

"Well hey, nothing beats good food in the bad weather. You've got a plate of lo mein waiting for you in the basement, or you can skip right to the fun part if you want." She winked and used the chopsticks to point out the fortune cookies spread out on the coffee table between them.

Danny grabbed one with a grin and broke it with a satisfying _crack._ He popped half of the sweet pastry into his mouth and pulled out the slip of paper from the other.

 _The person you desire feels the same about you.  
_ _Your lucky numbers:_

"So, what's it say?"

Danny panicked, balled up the paper and threw it across the room. He swallowed the half-chewed cookie dryly so he could talk. "Nothing! Heh, must have been a misprint."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah? You might as well grab another one, then."

 _Crack_.

 _Be on the lookout for coming events; they will cast long shadows.  
_ _Your lucky numbers:_

Specific, and yet vague enough to apply to anyone. He munched thoughtfully before crumpling that fortune up, too, and grabbing the third and last cookie on the table. _Crack._

 _Stand firmly by what is right; adversity is the parent of virtue.  
_ _Your lucky numbers:_

"Easy enough for you to say," he mumbled, "you're just a piece of paper."

Sam laughed at that. "Hey, come on Danny, if you wanted deep advice you're probably looking in the wrong place. Why don't you grab your food and we can talk about what's really bugging you?"

"...can't we just talk now? I kind of want to stay here with you, just for a moment."

She shook her head. "No, you should head downstairs first. Then we can talk, the next time you see me."

Danny heaved a sigh. Sam was right, of course. He had other places to be right now. With a parting smile, he made his way into the kitchen and made for the lab door. He stopped just short of actually opening it when something on the counter caught his eye.

Another fortune cookie.

"Hey, Sam? Did you forget this in here?" He peeked around the door frame to look into the living room, but his friend was nowhere to be seen. With a shrug, he cracked open the fortune cookie and examined the slip of paper.

 _What did he tell you  
_ _Your lucky numbers: 08 25 04_

Danny frowned. More cryptic messages that could probably hold significance for anyone. He was about to ball up the paper and throw it away when he noticed a single unbroken fortune cookie was sitting on the counter.

He must have overlooked it.

He cracked it open.

 _What didn't he show you  
_ _Your lucky numbers: 08 25 04_

That paper was crumpled and thrown away, but another overlooked omen was sitting on the counter. With a shrug, he cracked it open, too.

 _Ask him  
_ _Your lucky numbers: 08 25 04_

His frown deepened. Now these just weren't making any sense. The whole pile of fortune cookies now sitting on the counter must have been misprinted, for real this time. Danny pulled one off the stack at random to test his theory.

 _Askhimaskhimaskhimaskhimaskhim  
_ _Askh maskh maskhim: 15 hours_

Danny just scoffed. It must have been the whole batch that got affected. He ignored the accusatory cookies lying neglected on the kitchen counter and stepped through the door into the unlit basement. Unfortunately, somebody had misplaced the stairs, and he pitched forward into the darkness.

Just before he hit the bottom, he sat up with a start. His teeth were clenched and he thought he could taste blood on his tongue.

It was another dream. Of course it was. Danny groaned and flopped back onto the grassy surface underneath him, the salty taste of iron beginning to fade from his mouth. So, was this just another layer, or...?

"Hey, kid." He froze up at the feeling of a foot prodding him in the shoulder. "You've gotta stop fallin' asleep out in public like this."

Danny opened his eyes and turned toward the familiar voice. He had never been quite so happy to see a ghost.

* * *

Dad was shuffling through some boxes when we finally reached the bottom of the stairs. It looked like he had hauled half the equipment out of the closet looking for... Well, whatever it was he was looking for. He didn't notice us until mom cleared her throat audibly.

"Mads! You didn't have to bring the ghost kid down here, I was just looking for that cord coated with the ecto-resin."

"Didn't you leave that in the garden shed after you tried to make a macrame anti-ghost hammock?"

"Ah, right! Thanks, ghost kid." He smiled at me before turning to mom, who was presumably still holding a gun to my head. "We'll have to find another way to contain him, sweet pea. That shed's more of a mess than Omaha Beach."

"Don't worry about how we're going to keep it in line Jack, it said Danny might be in danger. Is the prototype ready for interdimensional transit?" She pointed at a lump of machinery covered with a sheet, evidently the prototype, over in the corner of the lab.

"Of course it's ready! _We_ built it, didn't we? What could go wrong?"

I hadn't been reassured by dad's self-confident smile. Actually, I hadn't been concerned at all _until_ I saw dad's self-confident smile. It appeared mom shared my reservations. "So you have the overheating issue worked out on the thrusters? Because if we fuse the starter coils again, it'll take weeks to repair."

"Oh, that. I'm sure it'll be fine. We just have to supply the cryogenic ectoplasm to the engine bells until we get to the Ghost Zone, and then we can collect it from the ambient air.

"And just where do you propose we get that much ectoplasm in this dimension? During the last test, the prototype didn't make it a meter above the floor before half the engine was reduced to molten copper."

"Wait, wait," I cut dad off before the argument went any further. "All you need is ectoplasm? Because I can probably help with that." I summoned a small, fiery ball of the stuff for emphasis.

"Oh, yeah!" He pulled me by the hand, with surprising force, to the back of the mystery machinery, before the sheet was whipped off revealing some kind of weird hovercraft. He popped open the engine compartment, although to say the least, it didn't look much like a car motor. "You'll need to hit square in the middle of the ecto-carburetor. It's that yellow looking doohickey." He stooped down to point out the target.

"Jack! You can't seriously be about to trust this thing with sensitive equipment are you?"

I thought I heard my dad sigh. He stood back up and wheeled around. "Mads, what choice do we have? You said yourself that without coolant this thing'll melt down like Lord Cardigan in Crimea, and if Danny's in trouble, I'm about willing to take any damn risk we need to! Fire when ready, ghost kid."

Happy to oblige.

* * *

"...and that's about it. I basically just walked straight out of my body, had some weird dreams, and woke up here."

The greaser flicked away his fourth cigarette butt. "You're right, that's strange as hell."

Danny frowned at that. "Very helpful." They were once again sitting at the lunch table in the small grassy area next to the time-locked Casper High, green mists and strange purple doors floating off in the seemingly endless distance all around them.

He got a shrug in reply. "Hey, I just asked what happened, I ain't claiming to be some kinda afterlife-genius." A moment passed in silence before he spoke again. "Y'know, you oughta ask ol' Poindexter. He's some kinda ghost-trivia crackerjack. Hold on."

Before he could say anything, the other ghost took off like a shot, flying through the second floor of the school. Danny supposed he had little choice other than waiting. When he had first awoken, his first instinct had been to fly straight home, but that hope was quickly dashed when he realized he was stuck in his ghost form. Presumably, Phantom would be stuck as a human, so at least he could explain the situation to their parents; until then, he would just have to wait until he received some sign from his ghost-half that he wouldn't be shot at immediately if he went home. It was odd, in a way. Here he was, a human with ghost powers, stuck in a world not quite his own, waiting on a ghost in his human body to assure his own parents Danny was no threat. He mused that there was probably nobody better for the job. Certainly, nobody he trusted more, although they had only known each other for a few weeks.

A high pitched scream interrupted his reverie. Danny nearly jumped out of his hazmat suit as a gray blur flew out of the school before skidding to a stop in the dirt at his feet; the ghost was quite short, with a deeply unflattering bowl cut, a bow-tie, and a pair of checkered pants sitting entirely too high on his short-sleeved button-up shirt. The kid staggered upright, floating slightly above the ground. He pushed thick glasses up his nose, before angrily shouting back at the brick wall. "What's the big idea, buster?! I was busy reading!"

The greaser was back out of the school a moment later holding a copy of _Galaxy Science Fiction_. "Don't frost up Sid, Green-Eyes here's got a question for you." He tossed the magazine at the ghost (apparently named "Sid"), who failed to catch it upon noticing Danny sitting next to him. It sailed right over his head as he stared.

Attempting to break the awkward silence, Danny leaned down to pick up the magazine and attempted to hand it back to Sidney. The shorter ghost was still frozen, looking apprehensively at Danny.

"Uh, hi there. My name's Danny." No reply. "You must be Sidney?"

The response came as a whisper. "You're the halfa."

"...the whata?"

"The halfa! You've been a legend around here after you kicked Buck Martin's keister six ways to Sunday! Gosh, you must be the only ghost with all the powers of a human!" Sidney looked like he was meeting Santa Claus. "Hey Frankie, why didn't you say it was him?! This is one hip cat I could have made time for!"

'Frankie' waved him off dismissively. "Yeah, he's a regular Marlon Brando. Meanwhile, back on the ranch, how about you and Green-Eyes figure out what's got him so screwed up? I'm sticking around 'cause I'm interested, not to watch you asking for autographs."

"Oh, uh, yeah. So, Sidney, have you ever heard of anyone- any ghost, that is, who can... Split?"

"Well yeah, most of 'em. Way I figure any ghost with his head screwed on right knows when it's time to high-tail it. Heck, learning that lesson's probably how a couple ended up here in the first place." Frankie shot him a dirty look. "Um, present company excluded." He gave a high-pitched, nervous laugh that utterly failed to dissolve the tension.

"That's... Interesting, and all, but when I said 'split' I actually meant, you know. Split. Not as in 'run'."

"Well, why didn't ya say so? Sure, I've heard of that. Most of the folks that can do it are your older more powerful ghosts, though the gabble goin' round lately is that there's a fella who's only 20 years old and can already maintain four duplicates."

"What if I told you I've managed to do it twice, completely by accident?"

"I'd say that was swell for you! You've just gotta get control of it, and then just think of what you could do! How many forms can you sustain?"

"Uh, two? I guess. It's kinda hard to maintain separation."

"Heck, just keep working on it, you'll be a duplication whiz in no time. If you can... Say, what's that over there?" The ghost pointed over Danny's shoulder, looking confused.

Danny wasn't sure if he could trust this ghost enough to look away, given how many times he had been sucker-punched by Dash after hearing that line. Then he heard the roar of engines and turned around just in time to see a vaguely submarine-shaped vehicle skidding sideways straight at him.

He covered his eyes with his arm, waiting for an impact that never arrived. Instead, he was tackled to the ground and pulled into a tight hug. His own voice came to his ears. "You have _no idea_ how glad I am to see you!"

Opening his eyes, Danny saw he had been assaulted by himself. "I'm uh, glad to see you too, Phantom. Could you get off me now?" The ghost smiled sheepishly before pulling back and hopping to his feet, offering a hand to help Danny up.

It was only after he got back to his feet and was looking at the human hand gripping the glowing glove that Danny realized something was different. "Wait a second, why didn't we re-merge?"

"Wait," Poindexter interjected before Phantom could respond, " _this_ is your other form? A _human_? That's real nifty! I've never heard of a ghost's duplicate looking different like this."

His question, in turn, was interrupted by the high-pitched whine of a charging capacitor. Danny turned around found himself looking down the barrel of a gun being held by his mother, not for the first time that day. It was just fortunate that her voice held none of the vitriol that might have been expected. "Danny, or... Or _Phantom,_ or whoever you are, get in the Speeder. We're leaving. And I don't want _any_ funny business from either of _you._ " She glared and leveled the gun at Sidney and Frankie, who respectively yelped and flew off, and made an obscene gesture before fading from view.

As Danny was shepherded into the vehicle at gunpoint, he couldn't help but share a small smile with his other half. It wasn't as if there was any other way to react, really.

* * *

Maddie couldn't stop looking back and forth between Danny and Phantom. She hadn't said much since her husband had landed back in the lab and urged them all to sit down to talk things out, and Danny was immeasurably glad one of his parents seemed to be taking things relatively in stride. He himself hadn't said much, and Phantom had spent most of the last two in restless silence. Picking at fingernails, adjusting his wristwatch, and tying and then retying his shoes from atop the uncomfortable stool. With a small smile, Danny realized that he would probably be doing the same if the strange inverted hazmat suit had anything to fidget _with_.

"Dann-o, you're gonna have to explain this one from the beginning," Jack had started, slowly.

"Well, I guess it started the day you tried to turn on the portal." His eyes flicked accusingly over at the hexagonal gateway. "Honestly, my memory from that day isn't too good, but Sam and Tucker told me that... I guess, I decided to go inside the thing. Somehow it got turned on, and I woke up in a pile of boxes across the lab."

From next to him, Phantom spoke up, to the surprise of his parents. "All I remember is a lot of pain. There was this big shock, and I was clenching up while I was being torn apart, and it felt like it just kept _going_ , and... If that _isn't_ what dying feels like, I'd be surprised, because I really can't imagine much worse." The room was silent for a moment. The spectral teen stared at the floor before twinkling blue eyes finally looked up at Danny, a sly grin on the ghost's face. "When Danny woke up, I could talk to him in his mind. It took the better part of three days to convince him he wasn't crazy, and then that I wasn't some kind of evil demon-ghost-thing."

Jack had actually cracked a smile as well. "Atta boy, Danny. Although that still doesn't explain how there's two of you."

"As far as we can tell, we're the only ones this has happened to," Phantom said with a shrug, "Maybe you just split in two when you don't quite die all the way."

Danny's father stood up and began pacing. "But that's the problem. It shouldn't be possible to 'not die all the way', or however you want to put it. Life is just a self-replicating pattern, and if it isn't that, it's not alive. Either/or."

"Honestly, we were kind of hoping you'd have some insight on that."

"But after these past few weeks, I trust Phantom, I—" a slight pause Danny couldn't quite suppress, "I'd trust him with my life. Actually, I already have, and he hasn't let me down. So if he says he's my ghost, I believe him."

"...when did you have to trust him with your life?"

It was the first thing his mom had said in a few minutes. She looked worried, but mostly just _tired_. Danny blinked nervously. 'Damn, I shouldn't have said that. Is there any way— Wait, you can't even hear me...' He frowned at his ghostly half, who had busied himself with re-re-tying his left shoe.

"Well, I've had to stop a bunch of ghosts from taking over the town, right? And without him, I could have gotten hurt." The ghost finally looked back at Danny, a look of disbelief on his face. The message was clear; _"stop digging the hole deeper champ, just shut up."_

"And that's the other thing!" Both the teens nearly jumped at Jack Fenton's thunderous voice. He came to a stop in front of Danny, looking down with parental disapproval. "What's this business about fighting ghosts? It's great that you want to take after your old man," he shot a deferential look at Maddie, who was too busy turning thoughts over to have even heard, "and your mother, but we're professionals! We know how to be safe, and with you already injured..."

"I've been feeling better for ages, and it's not like anything bad has happened..."

His father lowered himself onto one knee. Serious, steely-blue eyes bored into green. "Come on Danny, even if you're feeling better, it's important for us to be sure you're OK before you do anything like that." Danny nearly jumped back when hands were stretched out toward him, but Jack just placed them on either shoulder and gave a light squeeze. "We're gonna wanna do a full body scan, at least."

"...you don't mean the Fenton Resonance Imager, do you Jack? Because the neutron bombardment method is still breaking down too many chemical bonds to get an accurate image." Maddie thought for a moment, before adding, "Or for the subject to survive the scan, most likely." Danny could tell from a foot away that Phantom was tensing up. Then again, so was he; several of his worst-case scenarios for what could happen after telling his parents ran through his mind.

"Yeah, we're going to have to finish reinstalling the electromagnets and go back to plain old _boring_ MRI. That'll take some time to get working, so until we can do our checks, you'll need to let us know if you feel off. Or, more off than normal. Alright, Dannyboy?"

He was about to answer in the affirmative when his mother cleared her throat awkwardly, in two attempts. "Well. I suppose I'd better go get started. It's going to take a while for me to get the CNC mill running again since the software wasn't updated for the new Windows. I'll go sort that out now." She put on a smile and quickly stood up.

"Oh, don't worry honey bun, I already rolled the machine back to '95 last week."

The smile faltered for a moment before she recovered. "Alright dearest, but I'd still like to run some diagnostics." She walked off to another corner of the lab without a word.

Jack turned back to face his son. "I guess I'd better go help. Why don't you head to bed? This's probably been a long day for you." He spared Phantom a sidelong glance. "Uh, for both of you. _Man_ that's confusing."

With a quick check, his wife was out of hearing range, Jack's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "And son? If you happen to get into a dust-up with any more ghosts, just try to be careful. Remember, I'll be here if you need me." With another light squeeze on the shoulder, he rose and walked away, leaving Danny alone with himself.

* * *

The Dannys retired to his room. It was officially Saturday and apparently had been for a while if their alarm clock's helpful "4:17 AM" was any indication. Danny Fenton floated face-first onto the bed and said something that was lost through the pillow.

Phantom chuckled. "Hey, look at it this way champ, at least we don't have school in the morning."

Danny rolled over onto his back. "Ugh, don't even talk about mornings. Mornings are stupid. ...could we merge now? Being all ghostly this long is making my head feel funny." The other just raised his eyebrow at that.

"Oh boy, if you think _your_ head feels rough, just wait until you step back into our body."

As the ghost dropped his concentration, Danny found himself being tugged back into his human body. He went limp and let the merge take place, the feeling of taking over his own nerves feeling strangely foreign. As he completed the takeover, he was hit with a stabbing chest pain, causing him to double over and collapse back onto the bed. Danny almost felt on the verge of panic as the pain kept on mounting, until the world fizzled into the background noise.

Coherent thought was impossible for a precious few seconds, but as the feeling faded and the veil lifted, Danny voiced what they were both wondering in a low whisper. "What the _hell_ was that?!"

His heart was nearly beating right out of his chest, next to a dull, thrumming, _frigid_ sensation just beneath his sternum. Danny cracked his eyes open and looked around, and he nearly started panicking all over again. His pajamas, bed, and at least half of that corner of the room were _covered_ with a thick layer of icy snow, frost trailing halfway up the walls and over the window. The air didn't seem particularly cold, but his breath fogged up in front of him with a subtle blue tint; he reflexively clapped a hand over his mouth to contain the strange vapor.

Wide, terrified eyes met his own when he glanced at the mirror. They shone with a pale, cyan light. He was sputtering, trying to remember how to form coherent words. Phantom, on the other hand, mostly sounded annoyed. _"Terrific. Just what we needed tonight; ghost-puberty."_

* * *

Author's Note:

 _There is really no excusing the lapsed update schedule of this past four weeks. It would be all too easy to blame the holidays, but truly, one generally has all the time they need, if they are willing to use it. I intend to return to form in the coming days, for my sake as much as yours, as I find lingering projects lay heavy on the mind._

 _In story developments, "that one greaser ghost" now has a name, a mere 25 000 words later? It was only after MsFrizzle mentioned it in a review that I realized I could have likely gotten away with using Johnny 13 for the role Frankie took on (with maybe a misbehaving Shadow filling in for Buck?), but the thought did not occur to me during the planning of Chapter 9. I read that character as a bit more Meat Loaf than James Dean, if you see what I mean._

 _Oh, and a belated Merry Christmas, Danny. I hope you enjoyed having one dream scene that was not entirely traumatizing._


	19. Chapter 16

_"Last night was exhausting."_

'Last night wasn't bad, this morning was the worst part.'

 _"Easy for you to say, you weren't riding around in the Specter Speeder navigating at gunpoint. It was like all the worst parts of a carjacking combined with dad's driving."_

'So next time you'd rather deal with the night terrors?'

 _"I'm just saying, at least you had the option of waking up. I had to actually deal with our actual parents."_

Danny groaned and buried himself under the heavy duvet. Outside, Amity Park was baking under the noon sun in a cloudless sky, but the teen hadn't been able to shake off the chills that had pervaded his body since the wintry outburst; his only consolation was the fact that the supernatural frost was now nowhere to be found, so he could at least continue to pass for normal.

He had slept for almost 8 hours, but ultimately only woke up when a worker chose the lamp post directly outside his house to start drilling holes into. Danny sat up in bed and shot the man an unseen glare before pulling down the curtain, doing little to block the noise.

'I'm going to have to talk to them today, aren't I?'

 _"Weren't you just saying how talking to mom and dad isn't that bad?"_

'...shut up.' The teen threw off his bedding and headed out into the hallway. As tempting as it was to try to sleep in to avoid the conversation, the technician looked like he had a traffic camera ready for installation, which would presumably take a while. The other hope was the heat, but unfortunately, it looked like the bright white overalls and cap would do enough to keep the man cool that he wouldn't need a break anytime soon.

...besides, maybe it _wouldn't_ be that bad. He teetered, standing in the middle of the hallway for a moment before he headed for the stairs.

 _"Skipping the morning shower?"_

'It's a coffee-first day. And it's almost one in the afternoon.'

 _"12:19 is not 'almost one'. It's hardly even 'after noon' if you think about— Hey, watch out!"_

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Danny had very nearly run straight into his mother; he would have if she hadn't dropped what she was holding and jumped back a few feet as he got close. After a second, Maddie seemed to recognize him, and quickly smiled. "Sorry! You surprised me. That's all. How are you?"

"I'm fine, just a bit tired I guess. Is there any coffee left, or...?" As he asked it, the object she had dropped rolled and came to a stop against his foot. He bent down to pick up the pill bottle and had it grabbed out of his hand as soon as he was vertical again.

"L-theanine. Early evidence suggests it prevents caffeine headaches. We've been working all night. And morning. Although at one point I tried to sleep. But I decided I'd rather keep working. We're making some great progress! I should really get back downstairs." She paused long enough to toss back two or three of the tablets, washing them down with a mug of black coffee. "Oh! That reminds me, Sam called. I told her I'd tell you and you'd call her back. When you were awake. Have fun with your friends!"

Before he could get a word in, she was rushing down the stairs. 'Well, one more successful social interaction with mom.'

 _"I guess they're willing to pretend last night didn't happen for the time being. They'll need time to process all this too, you know. Maybe just take that shower, call Sam, and then... I don't know, actually."_

"...meet at the Nasty Burger?"

"Ugh, I dunno Danny, it's going to be like a million degrees in there today. I was going to suggest we hit Floody Waters."

"You want to go swimming? Sam, it's like the middle of September."

"Believe me, I _know_ what day it is Danny. Everybody knows. But it's in the mid-90s out here. Seriously, have you not been out of the house yet?"

"We both know I'm not a morning person, alright? Besides, I had a... Long night."

"Is that so?" Across the phone line, her voice dropped to a quiet whisper. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"...remember how I wanted to find the right time to tell my parents about the whole... Thing?"

"Oh. Oh no."

"Oh yeah. I found the _wrong_ time, anyway. It's when you're locked in a cage being interviewed at gunpoint."

" _Oh_ _my God_ , did they seriously lock you up? Are you OK? Did they hurt you?!" She was shouting now; Danny winced in pain and jerked the receiver away from his ear.

"Yeesh, keep it down, will you? I've already _got_ a headache, thanks. To answer your questions, yes, yes, and no. I'm fine. We haven't really had a chance to talk about it."

"Are you sure you want to...?"

"Yeah. Jazz is at that model UN thing all weekend and I don't really want to be alone in the house right now. It's... It's a little bit too weird."

"OK, if you're sure. Let's meet at Tucker's place, around 1:30? He lives closest."

"Alright, I'll see you in a bit."

"See you there," he moved to hang up the phone, and just barely heard her laugh and call him 'ghost boy'.

...that nickname had better not stick.

* * *

He almost made a clean getaway.

Danny had one hand on his jacket by the door before his dad charged up the stairs. "Hey, Danno! Going somewhere? I can give you a ride!"

"Oh, I, uh... I could just walk. Really, it's fine."

"Nah, I was going for a drive anyway! It'll be no trouble to give you a lift."

He tried to suppress a flinch. "Alright, fine. I'm heading over to Tucker's place." Happily, it was only a dozen or so blocks. There would be minimal opportunities for awkward conversations at his dad's driving speeds.

"Hey, great, that's right on my way!"

"Where are you headed?"

"We just got a fax from an old friend of mine over at the airport. Apparently, they picked up something on the radar last night he thought I might be interested in."

"Somebody actually used the fax line?"

Jack smiled knowingly at his son. "I think I'm going to have to tell him there's no way it could have been a ghost. Probably just interference from that storm that moved through overnight, don't you think?" Danny returned a small smile of his own.

In a moment, Danny was in the RV, doing 50 in a 30 zone, the smile left behind in favor of white knuckles and terror.

"You know son, being a parent is a special kind of job. And it really is a job, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 weeks a year." Danny was thrown against the door as his dad had to swerve around a corner, swinging onto a busy street past a yield sign and dodging around a hydraulic lift at the base of a utility pole. A worker in an, unfortunately, crisp white jumpsuit shook his fist angrily in the mirror before disappearing into a cloud of dust behind them. "Don't get me wrong, the last 16 years since you and Jazz have come screaming into the world have been an honor. Your mother and I couldn't ask for a better couple of kids."

"Uh, thanks- Dad, that light is red!"

Jack spotted the intersection half a block ahead. There was too much cross traffic to navigate it even remotely safely, so with a quick maneuver he turned down a back alley. "I mean it, Danny-boy. Heck, Jazz got picked to represent America at that UN modeling competition today. That's really something. And you, well, you go through all this... _this_ ," Jack took his eyes off the road to gesture at his son, as dumpsters and piles of trash continued to whip past within inches of the broad vehicle in the narrow alley. "And the first thing you do is try to save people? That says a lot."

"Dad..."

"Now, I'm not saying it was a _great_ idea—"

"Dad, fence!"

His dad turned away from Danny just in time to see the front end of the RV come crashing through a flimsy wooden fence separating the alleyway from the street beyond. They both cursed and Danny reflexively ducked in his seat, but they escaped otherwise unharmed. "Don't they know it's illegal to block an alley?!" He did a quick right turn onto the street, taking advantage of the momentary gap in traffic created by the explosion of wood splinters onto the roadway. "Anyway, just know that we're proud of you."

In spite of himself, Danny finally spoke his mind. "Not too long ago, weren't you and mom talking about trying to... 'eliminate' me? I saw the interview."

 _"Wow. Did you really need to go for the jugular like that, champ?"_ Phantom sounded aghast, and indeed, Jack's jovial mood seemed to falter.

Danny frowned. 'Yeah, well, their words, not mine.'

"Danny... Please, don't take that to heart. Knowing that it was my son fighting all those terrors, and all alone... It puts it in a very different context. I know you aren't evil, kiddo."

"...does mom?"

They came to a screeching stop at the side of the road, and Jack let out a weary sigh.

"...sorry, dad. I shouldn't have asked it like that."

 _"I think he's stopping because we're at Tucker's."_

So they were. Two miles in about as many minutes had to be some kind of record.

"Your mother... After 23 years, I can tell you one thing. She's not worried _about_ you, she's worried _for_ you. We've both made a lot of sacrifices for our work over the years, but we never really wanted Jazz _or_ you to get caught up in it. Not like this."

Danny couldn't quite meet his dad's eyes until he felt the hand on his shoulder. The man looked like he was holding back _something_ , but a tear was still threatening to leak out. "She's just going to need some time to work through that before she can... Well, she'll just need time. But until then, just know that I've got your back. And I'll always be there for you. _Both_ of you, no matter what."

"I... Thanks, dad. That means a lot."

They shared another smile, but it was lighter this time. "Enough of this emotional stuff. Get out there and go have fun with your friends, there'll be leftover pizza ready whenever you get home."

* * *

They made it to Floody Waters by 2 pm. The temperature had threatened to spill over into triple digits as the sun continued its oppressive march overhead and so the water park, normally abandoned well before Labor Day, was packed. Both in and out of the water, throngs of teenagers stood almost shoulder-to-shoulder with screaming children and haggard looking parents. There was only one place that was abandoned. Mostly.

Danny Fenton sank back into the hot tub with a contented smile, finally feeling better once surrounded by whirling jets of heated water. Predictably, he had it to himself; Tucker was watching, caught between concern and confusion, from cooler waters a few feet away.

"Dude, I have no idea how you haven't died from heat stroke or something."

"I've just been a little chilly today! It's almost fall."

"Are you kidding? It's warmer than it was all summer!"

"Maybe it has something to do with the... You know."

"The what?"

"That... _Thing_ I told you about. You know."

"Tucker, he's talking about the weird ghost thing. The new weird ghost thing, anyway." Sam came up behind them holding a tray of milkshakes.

"Keep it down, will you? ...and, thanks." He took the offered beverage.

"Hey, don't worry Danny, everybody around here is making way too much noise to overhear us." She passed the other milkshake to Tucker, who accepted it gratefully.

"Thanks, Sam. I was overheating just looking at him."

"Guys, seriously, it's not that weird. It's probably normal."

"...nothing about this is normal, man. No offense, but 'ghost puberty'? What does that even _mean_? Ghosts don't usually... Age."

 _"I make one glib remark and these guys just blow it waaaaay out of proportion..."_

"Yeah, I don't think Phantom meant that literally. But it is uh, really different." He held a hand over his chest. Next to his heart he could clearly feel the cold, foreign... _Thing_ , humming happily away, pulsing with some unknown and unknowable energy. "Something changed last night, but I'm just hoping the hypothermia goes away before school." He idly took a long draw on the straw, savoring the cold flavor of vanilla, before he was racked with shivers.

Sam smirked at that. "Starting right _after_ you're done giving yourself brain freeze, right?"

"That's not—" Danny was cut off when the words fogged up in the humid air. "Oh, what the hell is it now..."

A scream promptly provided an answer.

Danny whipped around to look up in the direction the screaming had come from; it sounded like it had been toward the top of a water slide. It was hard to tell between the glare from the sun and the distance, but one of the riders was glowing a light green and seemed to be wearing... Pajamas? Ultimately, it was the frost following it along the slide that gave away the abnormal nature of the situation.

 _"Oh good, another ghost attack in broad daylight. We haven't had one of those in a while. Remember to watch out for cameras this time, champ."_

'Yeah, thanks, mom...' The phrase came automatically, but he forced himself not to dwell on it, and jumped out of the water into the cool, 98° air. "Hey, guys, I'd better check this out. Cover for me, will you?"

He ran for the changing rooms. Happily, most of those present hadn't yet noticed the chaos unfolding in the far corner of the park. From experience, he knew it would have been a much tougher task to make his way through the crowd if they were all running for the exit.

The third stall was unoccupied, and the door was hastily closed and locked. In his mind's eye, he seized the small peridot flame that burned brightly with excitement, and he opened his eyes just as the cool rings of light finished washing over his hazmat-suit-clad body. He could hear the panic starting to spread through the park beyond the door; with a smirk, he prepared to leap out into the clamoring crowd.

 _"...you never did check if anybody was watching us enter this stall, by the way."_

The hand on the sliding lock hesitated. 'Fine, fine, I'll stay invisible until we get to the slide. Good enough?'

The silence suggested it was. With an eye-roll, he exited into the fray with much less showmanship than he would have preferred.

* * *

Most of the water park was frozen over before Danny had managed to isolate the fight from the few human stragglers. Half of it was because of the ghost, whose only two attacks seemed to consist of breathing supercooled air like a temperature-reversed dragon, and a complete lack of regard for personal space. The other half of the winter wonderland was Danny's doing since his body seemed dead-set on shooting ice rather than the usual spectral fire.

He had been in the middle of charging up for such an attack when he found himself enveloped in a vice-like hug. "Agh, _let go of me!_ "

"Never! Because we're friends now!" The ghost replied in a nasal voice as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. It was infuriating. "My name's Klemper! What's yours, new friend?"

"I. _Am not._ _Your friend!_ " Danny jerked his arm out of the unwanted embrace and threw a wild haymaker with all the energy he could muster. His fist charged as it was with ghostly ice, that was quite a lot; Klemper was knocked out cold and sent flying, landing distantly in the grassy field separating the park from the Interstate. Danny flew over warily, but the other ghost remained motionless on the ground.

When he came within a few feet, he frowned. This was supposed to be the easy part. The ghost was weakened, so he just had to land a killing blow. Ghost removed, people safe, hooray town hero. There was something different about this one.

...for one thing, it- _he_ wasn't actually motionless.

 _"Hey, champ? I think he's crying."_

'Is he...?'

Oh, crap. He _was_ crying.

With a sigh, Danny walked around to the other side of the ghost and stooped down to get a better look. He put on the most gentle voice he could manage. "Hey, uh... Klemper?"

Hurt looking eyes peeked out through the ghost's arms. "What do you want?"

"I... Look, I'm sorry I hit you. But... You can't just..." The sentence died on his tongue. He hadn't exactly expected to have this kind of conversation.

The other ghost sat up to look at Danny properly. It looked even more distraught when fully visible. "I only wanted a friend!"

He flinched at the outburst. "I know that, but listen, you can't chase after people like that. They were terrified, you know that right?" The other ghost nodded slightly. "Just... Get out of here, OK? Why don't you try to make friends in the Ghost Zone, instead? Because Amity Park isn't really ghost-friendly right now. Take it from me."

Klemper opened his mouth as if to respond, but no words came out. Eventually, he just closed his mouth and disappeared. He felt the ghost's presence leave long before he stopped seeing the teary eyes.

"Hooray, town hero."

* * *

"Geez Danny, took you long enough. I was getting tired of telling people the third milkshake was there for Elijah. It's less funny when nobody gets the joke."

"Sam, I'm not sure _I_ get it. But listen, I might have a bit of a problem here."

"How do you mean? Was that ghost too powerful or something?"

"No, no, but..." Danny lowered himself into the pool and grabbed gratefully for his now largely melted drink. After the battle, his perception of temperature seemed to have returned mostly to normal, and he had actually broken a sweat. The strange feeling in his chest had subsided to a dull contented weight, the nervous power he had felt in it earlier now vastly overshadowed by the adrenal pounding of his heart.

Tucker's hand waving inches from his face reminded him to finish the sentence. "Sorry... I guess the only thing is, this one seemed too human, you know?"

When he didn't get a response one way or the other, he sighed and continued. "I mean, that whole thing with the ghost at school, my parents tied him up and I just had to flush him into the ghost zone. Then there were the weird octopus things, the snake monster, that pack of ghost wolves, and the giant spider," he counted them off on his fingers as he went, "but they were just brainless, right? And I didn't mind blasting them to death or whatever, but what was I supposed to do with this one aside from trying to defend bystanders and telling him to stay out of Amity Park? I didn't want to just _let him go_ , but at the same time he didn't actually want to harm anyone, and I don't know what else I _could_ do. And what if I have to go up against other ghosts like that, even if not that one exactly? You know?"

"Danny? You're rambling."

"Ugh, I know... It's just..." he sank back slightly into a heavy exhale. "I'm not good at dealing with stuff like this. Three weeks ago I would have just said 'Call the cops and run for it'."

He got a sympathetic pat on the back from Tucker. "Hey man, all you can do is your best, right? You'll get all this figured out." Sam nodded in solemn agreement.

"Tucker's right. Even if you're both being typical anthropocentric meat-eaters about it." She grinned wickedly like somebody who had just shouted 'Fire' in a crowded theater.

" _Hey!_ I have an idea," as grateful as he was for the change of subject, Danny had to act fast to cut off a very angry-looking response from Tucker, "let's go try to find an unfrozen water slide while the lines are short!"

With a gentle guiding hand, he got both of his friends out of the pool, and lead the way both on the long climb to the top of the slides and through a very careful conversation.

But he never did check to see if anybody was watching.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _Happy Monday, and welcome back to "Disconnected". My apologies to MsFrizzle for once again ending on a cruel cliffhanger. Apologies also to the substantial portion of readers who, being accustomed to sensible metric scales for measurement, likely had to rely on context to understand temperatures given in Fahrenheit._

 _To answer Guest's question in a review of Chapter 15, I am setting out to tell a fairly limited story, maintaining the series's flavor but not the details, and it is unlikely that it will follow the plot particularly well. For example, I can say that "Disconnected" will not reach the time-frame of "Fright Night", since Halloween is currently 50 days in the future. Now, conversely, this does not mean villains from later seasons will not be putting in an appearance (unsubtle hint). And of course, this is not to say this particular story both begins and ends in one work (even less subtle hint)._

 _I intend to update again in under a week. Possibly even twice, depending on whether anything lands in Thrilling Tales from the Cutting Room Floor. Wish me luck._


	20. Chapter 17

"...unexpected low front blew in overnight. So, as for when we can expect this heatwave to pass, your guess is as good as mine. Tiffany."

"Thanks, Lance. Our other top story this evening, phantoms fight and freeway fright! Government officials closed down large sections of the interstate and state route 93 today, including the entire length of the downtown innerbelt. The move was prompted by security concerns following _apparent_ sightings of combative _ghosts_." A harsh cut to grainy video, where Danny could barely make out the end of his fight with Klemper.

"This was the scene at Floody Waters this afternoon. Amateur video footage captured part of the supposed apparition altercation, minutes after the 'Waterpark Wraith' began attacking park patrons. Although unconfirmed by police, eye-witnesses say that the enigmatic 'Inviso-Bill'—" Tucker snorted, and Danny elbowed him in the ribs, "—appeared almost immediately afterward and gave chase, allegedly _flying_ and _shooting ice_ , if you can believe that."

Back in the studio, the camera dollied back to show Lance now sitting at the anchor's left, toothy smile still firmly entrenched. "You know Tiffany, some of our viewers just might! Our interactive poll over at the Channel 4 News website shows that 57% of Amity Park residents are either 'firmly convinced of' or 'might believe in' the existence of ghosts! That's up, what, at least 45% from when we aired the segment on the 'Scholastic Specter' back in August?"

"At this rate, they'll need to work some ghost-related questions into the VP's debate in Cleveland next month!"

The weatherman cut off his well-practiced laugh before affecting a far more serious expression. "In related news, mythical monsters madden Mayor Montez; city hall says they may be forced to cancel next week's annual Amity Park Swap-Meet over specter speculation. Could other public events be next? That's coming up after the break, don't go away."

Danny clicked the power button on the remote and slumped back in his seat. "It's official. I'm dead."

"Maybe they didn't even see the news."

"Are you kidding? The whole town heard about this." In fact, Tucker's parents had arrived to pick the teens up within minutes, herding them into the back seat of an SUV and tearing out of the parking lot without giving them so much as a chance to dry off. After dropping Sam off, Danny made his excuses and opted to delay his return home. "Besides, they're Amity Park's only ghost hunters. They're _going_ to know that I got involved in a ghost fight, a whole 12 hours after they told me to _avoid ghost fights_."

"You could always run away and join the circus."

"Don't even joke about that, it's starting to sound kind of appealing."

"Speaking of appealing, it's meatloaf night. Do you want to stay for supper?"

Danny sighed and stood. "No, I've got to face the music sooner or later. Thanks, though."

"Hey, anything for the town legend, O' Enigmatic Inviso-Bill."

He got the scary eyes before Danny took flight.

* * *

The door swung open, briefly admitting the light evening breeze into the house, before it shut under the same invisible force. Danny's parents were unfortunately in the living room, and looked expectantly not far from where he stood. With a sigh, he dropped back to visibility.

"...hey."

"Hey, Danno! Y'see Mads? I knew he'd be all right." Jack sounded tired and relieved.

 _"I think he may have been overstating his certainty, there."_

'Either that or he was arguing with mom.'

For her part, she didn't say a word until Danny had made his way over toward the sofa. "Of course he is. Of course you are, Danny." She smiled softly and he noticed that she hadn't stopped staring at him since he had turned visible.

"Sorry, about the ghost thing. It all happened really quickly." Danny suddenly became very interested in looking at a distant corner of the floor. He was going to be grounded, for sure. "I just tried to end it as quickly as I could, and make sure everyone was safe—"

His mother cut him off. "It's fine. Really. What matters is that you're safe and sound. And here at home."

Danny was too busy trying to process that he wasn't in a world of trouble to speak. The silence hung in the air for a few moments, before it crashed down around them all at once.

"So, we'd better get back to work on that—"

"I guess I'd better go do some homework—"

Danny faced his father. They had talked over each other, trying to withdraw from the conversation. Jack chuckled. "Well, all right son. Good luck up there."

Only after he was at his desk in front of a math textbook did his mind wander enough to realize, 'I'm totally not grounded. Did I just get out of that scot-free?'

 _"...I mean, to some extent. Pretty sure you nearly got frostbite earlier. And mom and dad are probably too busy being glad you're alive to want to ground you. ...either that or they've realized, unlike you, that you don't need to use doors, so it'd be kinda hard to enforce."_

'Fine, but who cares about the stupid ghost stuff? I'm not in trouble with my parents!'

 _"Hey, there's that glass-half-full Danny Fenton. I missed you, man."_ Phantom was pretty clearly smirking.

'Suddenly it seems like a great time to enjoy the little things. Falluca wants all the prime numbered problems done for Monday. And we have to tell him whether or not that means Question 1 is included in the assignment.'

 _"Wow, that sounds tedious and horrible."_

Danny frowned. 'Gee, thanks. That glass is looking pretty empty after all.'

 _"Oh, suck it up, you'll be fine. Just start on the second problem. Or, wait, what's the second prime number?"_

'It's two.'

 _"All right, Question 2. I'll even help. Let's do this."_

With an exasperated sigh, Danny read the problem. '2. Prove that the left triangle is similar and/or congruent to the right triangle.'

 _"See, this'll be easy. The two triangles look the same, so, 'true'. That's one problem solved."_

'...this isn't art class, you can't just say "They look similar, QED". Proving it is the hard part.'

 _"Oh, so this is the part where it gets all boring and mathy? ...oh gee, I think I hear my mom calling, I'd better go..."_

'We have the same mother, you dork.' Silence.

'Damn it, Phantom.' Not that his ghost would have been much help. But he did enjoy the company.

Oh, hell. When had that happened? Danny heaved a great sigh and opened his geometry set, making some quick measurements.

The sides were a bit different, but it turned out they were similar after all.

That was one problem solved.

* * *

It turns out, pure white water isn't really a 'thing'. That kind of highlight just required you to not screw up in the first place.

I could have started again. I had liberated a long-stem rose from a bouquet in the kitchen specifically so I'd have a relatively static reference, so if I did restart the "subject" wouldn't go anywhere. On the other hand, I was already half an hour into this painting and damn if I was going to let a misplaced blotch of red stop me from finishing it.

I sighed and washed off the brush. The water turned the barest hint of pinkish-red, and a few taps on the edge of the glass got the bristles dry with a _clink-clink_. Possibly a poor choice at 11:53 at night, but then again, I knew Danny was the only one in the house who was sleeping. I was just about to start in on the details of the stem when the door opened a crack. Stiffening, I spun the chair around to face the door.

"Danny? Are you awake?" Ah. Mom. I had to strain to hear her.

"...sort of." Which was accurate. "You've got the other one."

She poked her head in. "Oh. Hello. Sorry, I was going to try sleeping again, but I heard... What are you doing?"

"Oh, uh..." I was still holding the brush, primed with paint and ready to go. I hastily rinsed off the bristles, the green mingling softly with the red in the water. While I was drying the brush off with a paper towel, I realized mom had entered the room fully.

"Are you painting?"

"Uh, yeah. It's a rose." I had taken to helpfully suggesting what the painting was supposed to be when Danny asked. It was just easier for everyone that way.

She made her way over to the window where I had set up. Again I was reminded of a cat, but less because of how nervous I was, and more because of how skittish she seemed. When she looked over the paper, she just _hmm_ ed.

"What do you think?"

"It's... Nice."

I couldn't help the smile that crept onto my face. "Don't sound _too_ surprised, you're going to wound my ego." I looked up at her and we made eye contact. The smile crept right back off as quickly as it had arrived. In the harsh orange side-lighting from the street lamps outside, mom looked oddly hollow. It looked like she had aged twenty years since the last time I saw her, and the dark circles under her eyes made it seem like it had been a while since she had slept.

"Hey, are you feeling OK?"

"Oh, yes. I'm feeling fine, dear." She tried to look like it, lips twitching upward and eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Do you mean you're actually fine, or is it like when Danny says he's 'fine'?" I sighed and set down the forgotten brush. That was the problem with English. All these little islands of consciousness trying to communicate across a vast gulf, and the best they can do is messages in bottles... The odds of being understood were bad enough _without_ half the words being code for something else. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but I would _never_ do something to jeopardize Danny's safety—"

"No, no, that's not what I've had on my mind. Really," she added when it was apparent I didn't quite believe that. When I didn't say anything, she continued. "It's... I never thought _I_ would do anything to jeopardize Danny's safety. I'm his mother. _Your_ mother." In spite of what she had just said, the hairs on the back of my neck did rise when she walked across the room and out of view. But, trust is a two-way street, so I counted out a few seconds before I spun the chair around to face her again.

It was a far cry from yesterday, I can say that much. She had removed her glove and was sitting on the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose, and apparently deep in thought. It was a while before she continued, but she still couldn't look at me. Was it fear? Disgust...? The thoughts behind that red-goggled mask were as inscrutable as ever.

"I thought... I've been running over the things I was going to do to you, yesterday. What I did do was bad enough, but I, I had a _list_. Neat little plans and objectives, and it was all so careful. Clinical. And..." There was a slight hitch in her breath, which made me realize I had forgotten to breathe myself.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. The thing is... We didn't make it easy for you, did we? With the secrecy and all that."

"That's exactly my point! When did I lose his trust? Or, your trust. Both of you. He was always my little astronomer. We could talk about _anything_. And now more than anything, I just want to know where I went wrong. When did I fail you?"

I knew this would be a heavy conversation, but... "Danny _was_ going to tell you some day soon. He does trust you, it's just that... He wanted to wait for the right time. You've never failed anyone. Mom." That little addition got the reaction I was hoping for. She was looking at me with the barest hint of a smile.

"How can you possibly be so forgiving?"

"Heh. Well, my other half is blaming himself for the whole mess, so you know. I'm more worried about if you'll forgive _us_. We shouldn't have hidden things from you and dad." I got up and held out my hand. "Apology accepted?"

She stood up and hesitated for a moment, before pulling me into a hug. "Of course, sweetie." She pulled back to look me in the eyes. "We'll just have to keep working on trusting each other, OK?"

"OK. If you... You know, have any ghost-type questions, just let me know."

She bit her lip. At some point it had ticked past midnight, and I was suddenly worried I'd be answering questions until Danny woke up. Her actual reply was a great relief. "No, that won't be necessary. You're part of my son, not a... Some kind of _lab experiment_. Just, there is one thing..."

"What's that?"

"...would you mind if I watched you paint for a while?"

I nodded. She sat back down on the bed. I got so wrapped up in the work that I didn't notice the deep, heavy breathing until I had finished the rose entirely. After the last brush was cleaned and dried, I looked around to find mom splayed out across the bed, fast asleep. I guess caffeine and adrenaline have their limits after all.

That night, I slept on spare bedding and hardwood. But you know, I rested pretty easy.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _Apologies for the delay. Despite my very best efforts, politics and those passionate about them have been doing their best to invade my life. To some extent, I think I brought it on myself, as I actually watched and discussed television news for the first time in years in the name of researching that opening. "May you live in interesting times," as the old curse goes._

 _This final scene with Phantom and Maddie was cut, uncut, re-cut, and re-uncut before all was said and done. I had two visions for how that interaction could go; what appears above, and a rather more disturbing version. I decided I wanted this chapter to be light, in no small part because things are about to start moving quite fast. And, in truth, as we approach the finale it may seem a bit heavy. But I think to not too great a degree._

 _If all goes to plan, there are only 5 chapters remaining in Part II. We will likely be finding out the identity of Phantom before the end of Chapter 19. But all the same, thoughts, comments, questions, and wild speculation are very much welcome. ;)_


	21. Chapter 18 (I)

" **Guardian!** I would request an audience with your young charge!"

"Wha- Oh, _shi_ —"

 _Crack_.

"Wait, just a moment! We—"

" _What are you doing in this room, ghost?_ And _you_ , stay down if you know what's good for you!"

Danny groggily sat up and hit his forehead on solid metal. After a pained curse, he opened his eyes, seeing stars, and barely caught his mother rebuking his language before his father burst loudly through the door.

If he hadn't been just waking up, he probably would have had more to say about what he was seeing as his vision cleared. For some reason, he had been sleeping on the floor beneath his desk. His bed was occupied by his mother, who was using the height to stand poised to strike over the prone form of a strange yeti-like creature that writhed on the ground clutching its nose. Another yeti was still busily trying to explain the situation at gunpoint while his dad loudly insisted it get down on the ground.

Once he had staggered to his feet, a sharp, blue-vapored whistle got four pairs of eyes on him.

"Can't a guy get any sleep around here?"

 _"That's your opening line?"_

'You're right, that's more your kind of comedy. _I_ could have done better.'

 _"Just get on with it... The sooner this is over with, the sooner I'm going back to sleep."_

"What are you two doing in Amity Park? This uh, _territory,_ has been claimed." As he said it, he summoned a ball of ghostly fire that hopefully looked suitably intimidating.

The yeti still standing instead broke into a broad smile and spoke with the sort of booming volume the neighbors were likely well-acquainted with. "Ah, you are the **Ghost Child**! We have come from—"

Danny winced and slumped back against his desk. "Not so loud, will you? My head is already killing me."

"My apologies." It was said with a much lower volume and a curt bow. "We have come from the land of the Far Frozen, sent forth by the great and courteous Frostbite on a mission of great import. It is for this reason we now seek your aid."

"Uh, OK." He dropped the ball of ecto-energy. "Who or what is the Far Frozen? And for that matter, what kind of mission is this...?"

Maddie interjected before the strange creature could answer. "Danny, could I speak with you about this? Alone."

"Oh, yeah. Sure."

His mother hopped down from the bed, smiling sweetly at her husband as she passed him. "Jack, dear, would you make sure these two ghosts don't go anywhere? If they move, feel free to start shooting without me, I'll be up in a moment."

He returned the smile with a mock salute, before leaning down to plant a short kiss on her cheek. "Aye aye, sweet pea."

She was actually blushing while she shepherded Danny out into the hallway.

'...seriously? _Now?_ '

 _"Gross parental romance is like the most normal thing that's happened since we woke up. Speaking of which... What do you think of the abominable snowman's story?"_

'I mean, I haven't heard of Frostbite or Far Frozen before—'

 _"Not that that counts for much, champ."_

'—but on the other hand, they haven't actually destroyed anything or tried to kill anyone, so there's that.'

Phantom gave a mental nod. _"He, or she, or it or whatever..."_

'"They"?' Danny offered.

 _"Sure. They didn't seem to be lying, either. Although I couldn't get a read on the one on the ground, what with the broken nose and the lack of speaking."_

Danny turned to face his mother, who had led him into the front room and seemed to be teetering on the edge of asking something. 'So when mom asks, the consensus is... Benefit of the doubt?'

 _"Benefit of the doubt."_

"Danny..."

"I'm thinking we should hear them out. They don't seem as hostile as any of the other ghosts I've run into yet."

His mother blinked a few times, and he could almost see the words turning over in her mind before she finally responded. "Well, if that's what you think, we can certainly try that, although I would still like to take a cautious approach. But that's not what I wanted to say."

"Oh? Um... Sorry, what did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to apologize. We... Your... Your ghost, Phantom, and I, we talked last night. But I wanted to tell it to you, too."

Danny frowned. 'You didn't tell me about that.'

 _"When have I ever told you_ everything? _"_

'...wait, what?'

"Danny?"

"Sorry, I—"

"No, I should be apologizing to you. I made you feel unsafe. But I want you to know, I'm not upset about..." She gestured vaguely up and down his body, "and I'm here to help you whenever you need it. Starting today."

Danny gave her a weak smile. "Alright. Thanks, mom."

She, in turn, ruffled his hair. "What are mothers for?" Sparing a glance back up the stairs, she added, "We should probably get back in there. So, you're thinking we should trust them?"

"Trust, maybe not. But I'd like to hear what they have to say. At the very least, figure out how _they_ found _me_."

* * *

The guns were no longer being aimed at anyone, but neither had they been powered down in their holsters. To an outside observer, it would have been an odd sight. Amity Park's two best ghost hunters leaned back uneasily against the furniture in their son's bedroom, opposite a pair of yetis; one stood at military attention with its hands clasped behind its back, the other was slumped on the bed and holding a green-stained hand towel to its face. In the middle of it all, pacing back and forth, was the lithe, glowing frame of the infamous Danny Phantom.

"So, let me get this straight, Fun—"

"Föhn," the yeti corrected.

"...what did I say?"

"I believe you said 'Foon'."

"How was I _supposed_ to say it?"

" _Föhn_ , the One of Many Winds, First Officer of the Far Frozen Security Forces."

"Do you have like a nickname or something?"

"I do not."

Danny sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right. Let me get this straight, Foehn," having strangled out the sounds, he looked at the standing yeti for confirmation, who cocked an eyebrow but otherwise said nothing. "You want me to help you track down a _war criminal_?"

"That is correct, ghost child. Besides the benefit of proximity to our shared adversary, you are uniquely qualified. I believe it makes perfect sense for us to cooperate."

"How am I 'uniquely qualified' to help you take down this Plasmius guy?"

"No, you misunderstand. Another team has been assigned to track Plasmius down in the Ghost Zone, and he is of no immediate threat to the human realms. He is merely the fool who freed the criminal before he could stand trial, perhaps in hopes of currying the favor of a much more powerful ghost."

The yeti paused a moment. "Said criminal is our primary target, the one known as Vortex. His crimes stretch back millennia, and his victims may count in the millions. We believe he is intending to strike your village, and soon. His attacks typically begin with alternating heat waves and torrential rain. It is his way of weakening a settlement before laying siege."

"...But why do you need _me_? No offense, but can't you take care of this guy alone?"

"As I said, young one, you are uniquely qualified. We noticed within moments of arriving here in this Amity Park that another ghost in possession of an ice-core was present. Of course, we might not have taken the time to track you down, if you hadn't made your identity rather obvious with that little display yesterday. Chinook," he gestured to his companion on the bed, "believes that your help would be of great benefit to us, as Vortex is generally weak to cold-based ectoplasmic attacks. Besides, as a hostile party, is Vortex not also trespassing in your, ah, 'territory'?"

He added it innocently, but the smirk suggested a level of sarcasm Danny was choosing to ignore.

"Fine then, I'll help you out. But I'd like to ask you a few questions." The other gave a short nod and the smirk transitioned to a far more genuine smile. "First off, would you mind explaining to me exactly what an ice core even _is_?"

Chinook gave a nasally _hmm?_ from behind the towel, whereas Föhn looked more openly stunned. "Do you mean to tell me you don't even know of your own physiology?"

"Wait, physiology? It's _inside_ me?"

"Of course it is!" The yeti took a sudden step toward Danny, slowing his pace considerably when he saw two hands twitch toward holstered weapons from across the room. Föhn pressed the back of a large hand against his chest, moving slightly until he settled on a spot to the left of his beating heart. "Ah, yes, here it is. Can you feel that?"

Danny raised a gloved hand to feel at the spot on his chest. There was definitely something there, an odd rhythmic murmuring clearly felt through two layers of fabric. It was definitely the same _thing_ he had felt there the day prior, although after the skirmish at Floody Waters he had more or less forgotten about it entirely.

 _"I guess it's nice to know what it's called. For a while yesterday I thought we were having some kind of ghost-heart-attack."_

'I don't think that's a thing.'

 _"Look who's suddenly an expert."_

Danny smirked. 'Well, we _have_ already established that I look more like a doctor than you do.'

"So is this... 'Ice core'," he took a moment to try out the word, "unusual, or something?"

"I would not say unusual, ghost child. But it is highly uncommon outside of the peoples of the Far Frozen. I must admit I am somewhat surprised you did not know of this already. You seemed quite adept with your abilities in battle."

"I'm uh. Still pretty new to the whole 'ghost' thing. So where exactly is this Vortex guy? If all we need to do is go in and hit him with the freeze-rays or whatever, let's just get it over with."

Föhn shook his head sadly. "I am afraid it will not be that simple. Vortex is an exceedingly powerful ghost, far in excess of even Chinook's formidable strength. His weakness is twofold, and we will need to take advantage of both aspects if we hope to succeed."

Danny leaned back against his desk as the yeti took to pacing of his own. "The first is that Vortex possesses an incredibly low metabolic rate. It has granted him an exceptionally long life and the great power that comes with that, but once exhausted, he has been known to rest for weeks or even months before he can attack again. Besides that, it also means he heals less readily than most ghosts." As if on cue, Chinook pulled the towel away from her face, experimentally scrunching up an apparently fully healed nose. "Although it would be best to finish this fight in one attempt rather than offering him any chance to recuperate."

"And the second?"

"Is that he is a bit of a blowhard. And of course, half the battle is mental rather than physical."

To the surprise of the two-and-a-half ghosts, Maddie spoke up. "Naturally. We can play on that spectral ego to bait it into expending far more energy than it normally would."

"Exactly so," Föhn responded with a nod. "Depending on the exact nature of the 'bait', we may also be able to lure him further away from civilians."

"Whoa, civilians?" Danny frowned. "I don't want to do anything that puts bystanders in the middle of a fight."

The yeti held up a placating hand. "It may not be a problem. We last sensed Vortex out in the hills to the east of the settlement."

That jerked Jack out of his thoughts. "...Did you say to the east?" At the nod in the affirmative, the man paled. "It _was_ a ghost... I have to send a fax!"

He practically sprinted from the room. "Uh, mom? Do you have any idea what that was about?"

"None at all. I didn't even realize that fax machine was still hooked up..." She looked distantly past the door for a moment, before suddenly focusing back on the room. "Look, uh... Foehn. If we're talking about a fight in hilly terrain, Jack and I will take the Fenton Ghost Assault Vehicle and draw the fire from this Vortex. It's got a loudspeaker mounted to the roof and enough firepower to defend against anything less than a level 8 ecto-entity. Then Danny and you two can attack it from above while its attention is on the ground."

"...do you have any plans that don't involve you and dad risking your lives _purposely_ taunting a powerful ghost?

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Danny, I realize you've put a few notches on that ectoplasmic-belt of yours in the last two weeks, but your father and I have been doing this for 20 years. If it wouldn't make me a _complete_ hypocrite, I would be trying to talk _you_ out of getting involved."

"OK, fine then, let's talk about—"

Chinook cleared her throat loudly, cutting off Danny's rebuttal. She just pointed a thumb at the darkening window, where the soft _pitter-patter_ of raindrops was just beginning to pick up speed. Her voice was as deep as the distant rumble of thunder. "Folks, I think we're out of time for talking."

 _ **To be concluded...**_

* * *

Author's Note:

 _It has been fully 80 days since I published Chapter 9*, and yet I am still woefully slow at writing action sequences. I did make a promise to update more frequently, however. So in my most_ shameless _delaying tactic employed to date, have the first half of Chapter 18, wherein we meet Föhn and Chinook (you would never know that I dislike using original characters, would you?) since Frostbite is too busy being kingly to bother mentoring unknown and unheard-of ghost children._

 _Also, this is likely the chapter with the highest density of "Oh, so that is why Workparty included_ [seemingly innocuous detail] _back in chapter_ _ _" moments of any chapter in Part II thus far. Expect to see more of those in the second half, which ought to be up before Sunday. Because with some kind of higher power as my witness, I will finish this chapter in a timely fashion._

 _*- Trivia Fact: I do not name the chapters officially, but I do give them little code names. That document was saved as "2-9 Friday Night Frights". In case you thought I just made horrible puns when writing dialogue._

 _02/02/2017 - Small dialogue tweaks_


	22. Chapter 18 (II)

Previously, on _Disconnected_ :

The teen shifted uncomfortably. "I'm uh. Still pretty new to the whole 'ghost' thing. So where exactly is this Vortex guy? If all we need to do is go in and hit him with the freeze-rays or whatever, let's just get it over with."

Föhn shook his head sadly. "I am afraid it will not be that simple. Vortex is an exceedingly powerful ghost, far in excess of even Chinook's formidable strength. We will need to take advantage of his weakness if we hope to succeed; he sees himself as a higher being, a sort of misunderstood artist."

Maddie spoke up. "We can play on that spectral ego to bait it into expending far more energy than it normally would."

Danny frowned. "I don't want to do anything that puts humans in the middle of a fight."

His mother looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Danny, I realize you've put a few notches on that ectoplasmic-belt of yours in the last two weeks, but your father and I have been doing this for 20 years. If it wouldn't make me a _complete_ hypocrite, I would be trying to talk _you_ out of getting involved."

"OK, fine then, let's talk about—"

Chinook cleared her throat loudly, cutting off Danny's rebuttal. She just pointed a thumb at the darkening window, where the soft _pitter-patter_ of raindrops was just beginning to pick up speed. Her voice was as deep as the distant rumble of thunder. "I believe we are out of time for talking."

* * *

Maddie Fenton sat in the driver's seat of the RV, drumming her fingers absently. Danny Phantom, crammed in the back between Chinook and Föhn, had lost track of how many times she had checked the dashboard clock in the five or so minutes since she had shouted at Jack to hurry up and get ready to go.

When they had first entered the vehicle, they probably would have been able to hear the fingers tapping against the 10-and-2 positions on the steering wheel. Now, the sound was drowned out by the steadily worsening storm above.

At last, Jack ran out the front door, fumbling with his keys in one hand while trying to hold onto a piece of paper in the high winds. He practically leaped into the passenger seat, and barely got the door closed before Maddie threw the vehicle into gear and tore off down the road.

"Hold up sweet pea, aren't we bringing Danny and his friends?"

"Uh, I'm right here dad."

Jack whipped around and searched the passenger compartment before Danny dropped out of invisibility with a shy wave. The man blinked in shock for a moment before frowning. "Danny-boy, we're gonna have to have a talk about this invisibility phase of yours."

"Jack, we can't exactly have people seeing the highest profile ghost in Amity Park riding in the GAV."

"Oh, right. As you were!" He turned around to scrutinize the grainy, water-logged map he had spread out on the dash.

Mindful of the rear-view mirror, largely unused though it was, Danny flipped back to invisibility before rolling his eyes. "So why'd you need to fax a map, anyway?"

"Remember yesterday when I said I was heading off to the airport?" Danny just nodded, before feeling slightly silly; at least nobody saw it. Regardless, the elder Fenton continued. "Well, that old pal of mine spotted some kind of radar ghost that he thought might be an actual, un-radar ghost. It didn't look like much, but you know what they say. Hindsight is 20/20. And _Jack Fenton does not wear glasses._ "

"Ah, Jack, dear? Could you tell me where exactly I'm going?"

"Take 11th out onto the Elmerton bypass, then turn..." He experimentally held the paper up and turned it to the side slightly, as if to get a better view. "Take the left exit just past that ink smudge near Lake Genoa."

"Hmm. If we don't run into much traffic, that should only take about 10 minutes."

"It's only 8 miles, Mads! At least half of that is highway, we should be able to do that in 6 minutes, tops."

" _10 minutes, Jack._ Is that quick enough?" She directed the question over her shoulder.

Danny felt as much as heard the murmur of agreement from Föhn. "Yes, that should be acceptable. Though I do not envy those caught in the tumult until we can put an end to it."

The conversation wilted into the kind of silence only found in the calm before the storm. Danny caught himself staring out the window, daydreaming. His mind kept being drawn to Christmas for some reason; perhaps it was the wintry ghosts flanking him. His parents spent most of last year's festivities arguing about the physics of Santa Claus in the living room. He and Jazz had exchanged meaningful looks and small smiles as it escalated until the two "adults" resolved to take the matter to the basement where they could write out the numbers on a chalkboard, lukewarm cocoa forgotten on the coffee table. Some comment about a sleigh's second moment of inertia disappeared with them down the stairs, and the two siblings burst out laughing.

It had been a pretty good day, all things considered. But Danny still ranked the year before _that_ even higher; it was the year Sam came over for the day. Hanukkah had already come and gone, and at Danny's insistence that he would need the backup, she agreed to sit in on Christmas Dinner. For him, it was a day of stolen glances. Sam looking uncharacteristically cheery with a mug of hot chocolate. Sam acrobatically dodging flying drumsticks. Sam looking back at him incredulously when he handed over a phone book still covered in ectoplasmic gravy. Their little laugh at the absurdity of the whole day over Szechuan tofu and mixed vegetables. The short walk home from the Michigan Avenue Church. Waking up in the middle of the street under the falling snow. "Why don't you ask him? What's he hiding from you?" Stumbling through darkness watching friends die because he couldn't save them from—

Danny jerked back to awareness.

 _"You OK champ?"_

'Yeah, fine. Just kinda lost my train of thought.'

The ghost didn't question him further. The were both acutely aware of how tense the other was in that moment, and they both knew it. Danny blinked first.

'...Phantom?'

 _"Uh, yeah?"_

'You know you can tell me anything, right? And I wouldn't be upset?'

 _"Why do you say that?"_

'Because it's true. You know that, right?'

 _"...yeah, sure. Of course."_

Phantom was getting evasive, so Danny decided to back off. Honestly, he didn't _really_ know why he had asked, either. But something about the situation was bothering him. He just couldn't tell what.

Underneath them, the vehicle began to slow as his mother gently applied the brakes. "Which way do I turn here?"

"Straight through up ahead."

"Jack, it's a T intersection!"

"Come on Mads, live a little! That's why we put treads on this baby."

"...alright, fine. Everyone hold on, we're going off-road."

The RV dodged around the "Dead End" sign and the hum of rubber on asphalt was replaced by the steady crunch of gravel and the slick sound of mud being flung out by the wheels.

 _"I think we're getting close. I can sort of feel Vortex nearby, but our entourage is making it a bit difficult to be sure."_

'It'll probably be obvious, right? He doesn't seem like he's big on subtlety.'

As the GAV crested the hill, Danny thought he saw a very unsubtle fork of green lightning shooting from the ground to the sky; when it was followed by several more, he was sure. Danny lunged forward between the two front seats and pointed off to the right. "There! Look, it must be Vortex manipulating the clouds, or something?"

Jack's head spun from side to side. "Look where?"

"Oh, yeah. Heh." Danny dropped back to visibility and pointed again. "Over there."

"Ah! Mads, he's at our one-thirty-o'clock!"

"What?!"

"Halfway between the 1 and the 2!"

"45 degrees right Jack."

"No honey, the thermometer says it's only down to 56 out there. But hey, it's still 68 in the GAV, and I'm sure Danny won't mind a little cold! Right, son?"

Maddie sighed and slowed into the turn while Jack began searching through the glove compartment. He apparently found what he was looking for. "You remember these, right Dann-o?" He asked with a sly wink, handing Danny three Fenton Phones.

"Ah. Yeah. Chinook, Foehn, if you guys can take one of these and place it in your ear, we'll be able to keep in touch."

"We know how to work a headset, young one." Föhn sounded vaguely upset by the implication.

"Far Frozen ain't _that_ behind the times," Chinook added. "We got a whole mess of engineers workin' R &D."

Jack lit up at the idea of ghost engineers. "Is that so? I'd love to meet 'em sometime! Where is this Far Frozen, anyway?"

"...Dad, the ghost attack?"

"Oh, right. Alright, just like we planned. You three get out here," he turned and pointed out a location on the illegibly smeared map, "we'll draw fire, and when he's distracted you can swoop in—"

"Carefully, Danny," Maddie interjected.

"—and take this punk out, however _that_ works. And Fern?"

"Yes, guardian?" asked Föhn, patiently.

Jack turned and stared right at Chinook with narrowed eyes. "If my son dies again out there, I _will not stop until_ _you don't live to not regret it._ "

"Of course." Föhn's tone suggested he wasn't particularly perturbed.

The man looked at where the reply had come from and after a moment, before looking back at Chinook and adding, "And that goes _double_ for you."

* * *

 _The Storm_ , for there had been only one " _The Storm_ " in living memory, had hit Amity Park years ago. It cut off the power to the city while the Fentons were in a movie theater _,_ and they had to stumble through the dark to get to the exit. The visibility wasn't much better outside, the wind and the rain making the drive home precarious. To Danny's six-year-old mind, it was all fascinating; he couldn't understand why the forking lightning and booming thunder had upset Jazz to the point of tears.

As soon as the family car had been parked, the boy had managed to squirm out of his booster seat and bolted for the park, something in his mind saying that he could get a better view from atop a hill, and thus that would be the best place to be at that moment. Maddie had run frantically to catch him before he got injured, resolving to add child locks to their Ghost Assault Vehicle blueprints that very night; the giggling child was halfway up to the top of the hill when she finally pounced on him, holding him to the ground by his midsection as she tried to get a better grip on his small form.

Lightning split the air and the tree at the top of the hill, leaving both mother and son stunned, but not injured. Hundreds of others were not so fortunate that day. One state of emergency, two fatalities in the next county over, and tens of millions of dollars in damages later, only the legend of _The Storm_ remained.

But Danny remembered the excitement and fascination of that day well. The fiery crack, the smell of ozone, the roar of the shockwave...

As the rumble of thunder turned into chaotic, wheezing laughter, he suddenly understood Jazz's point of a view a whole lot better.

Pulled out of his reverie, Danny realized Föhn and Chinook were already at the target, or more accurately, the target was at them. The yeti duo split to dodge a bolt of lightening sent in their direction and sent back a few icy shots of their own from either side. As they had predicted there was little immediately obvious effect; Vortex was built like a triangle, almost as tall as Fentonworks, and covered with black armor plating. When Danny's parents joined the fray, pelting the ghost with laser fire from the GAV's roof-mounted turret, the ghost seemed more annoyed than anything.

"Pathetic! Has the High Council been reduced to trying to distract me with pitiful _humans_?" He swatted the vehicle as if it were an insect. It was sent first flying and then rolling across the terrain. "Puny, impotent humans! They should be _rejoicing_ that I have chosen this town as my first canvas!" Danny barely heard the taunt. Battle plans already forgotten, he was far too busy flying toward the heap of metal that had finally come to a stop on its roof.

To his great relief, his dad was groaning on the ceiling when he entered. "Maddie...?"

He landed next to the man who was carefully propping himself up on his elbows. "No, dad, it's me. Are you hurt? Where's mom?"

"Right here." The teen turned to face his mother, currently suspended upside-down in her seat. "You see Jack, seat belts aren't just for punks."

Danny could have laughed. "Well, I'm glad you're OK. Let's get you guys out of here before I flip this thing over."

"Danny, honey, the RV weighs a ton—" Maddie started, as Danny carefully phased her through the seatbelt and out the door.

"A literal ton!" Jack added as he crawled out to join them.

"—we're going to need the hydraulic lift to get this off the ground, at _least_."

"Or, alternatively, one ghost-powered teenager and his amazing gravity-canceling abilities."

Danny pointed at himself with a small smile, worried by his mother's frown for just a moment. "Honestly Danny, you should know better. Even if you can make it weightless, it would still have a ton's worth of mass."

"That... Was meant as a joke." It hadn't been. "Here, just let me give it a shot..."

With some strain, and heels digging into the grass and dirt as he did so, Danny did manage to right the vehicle. It landed unsteadily on its wheels and treads and seemed to not be too worse for wear, apart from the obliterated roof-mounted equipment.

"Hmm. Jack, how quickly do you think we could get the turret fixed?"

Jack rubbed his chin appraisingly. "Maybe a half hour. Probably not quick enough to catch up with Danny's ghost-friends."

Danny nearly jumped. _"Oh yeah. We were fighting a ghost, weren't we?"_ Problematically, Vortex was absolutely nowhere to be seen.

"Uh, hey, guys? Did you see which way they went?"

A bolt of lightning shooting wide over the hills was his answer, and it wasn't a good one.

 _"Oh, crap."_

'What's wrong?'

 _"They're heading for Amity Park!"_

* * *

By the time Danny had caught up with Vortex and his allies, the three had arrived at the outer fringes of Amity Park's suburban sprawl. They would have been easy enough to find even without the pyrotechnics; the fighting had left its mark on a housing development under construction, a hastily abandoned set of road maintenance vehicles, and the sea of scorched pavement all leading up to a cluster big box stores.

"Foehn," Danny tapped the button on his headset. His intended target was currently occupied throwing chunks of spectral ice at Vortex, so he didn't bother waiting for a reply. "We've got to stop this guy here, any further into town and we'll start running into more and more bystanders."

As Danny closed in, he could see Föhn back away from the fight slightly, dodging bolts of lightning and firing back at an only slightly decreased pace. "Very well young one. He is starting to grow somewhat weary, although I suspect not as quickly as I myself am. We can try to isolate him from the humans, but it appears they do not share your trepidation."

With a groan, the teen observed not one but _two_ vans approaching the battle from opposite sides of the parking lot. One was labeled with the familiar logo of Channel 4 News, although the other was unmarked.

It was the unmarked van that opened fire on him.

Danny dodged around the hail of bullets before diving for the roof of the nearest building; he dimly recognized it as the Stationary Hut.

 _"What's with you and getting into fights at this place?"_

'Not the time, man.'

Danny quickly keyed his microphone again. "Hey, Foehn, Chinook, we've got a problem. I think some ghost hunters are after us." A quick peek over the edge of the building revealed two nearly identical men in white suits ( _"They need names. How about Agent A and Agent B?"_ ) peering around as if unaware of the rain, eyes obscured by sunglasses even in the stormy weather. They were clearly looking for something or _someone_ in particular because they didn't seem bothered by the two yetis and massive weather-controlling monster not 100 yards away from them; the rifles they were holding suggested they weren't interested in talking. The warning from weeks prior echoed in his mind.

 _They're called the Guys in White. If you see them you'll know why._

Well, here they were. Guys in white. Agent B noticed him and alerted A before opening fire, peppering the building with bullets until he ducked back past the edge, shuffling sideways a bit.

"Correction, I think they're after _me_. I might have to—"

Anything further he could have said was cut off by Vortex's angry cry. "YOU! You are the so-called weatherman! You would presume to divine my art?"

'Oh no.'

He chanced another glance over the edge of the rooftop and saw a very terrified Lance Thunder standing at the base of the news van between a camera and the furious weather spirit.

 _"Oh, yeah. I've got a bad feeling you're going to need to step in here champ."_

"You will _fry_ for your arrogance!"

As Vortex charged another lightning bolt in his hand, Danny took flight, moving erratically to dodge renewed automatic gunfire.

Vortex was quick, but Danny was quicker. He dove and managed to grab the newscaster right as the bolt connected with the newly unoccupied pavement slab; further shots from the enraged ghost and ghost hunter followed Danny as he flew wildly away from the battle, ducking and weaving, and temporarily forgetting that Lance Thunder was probably not used to such maneuvers. For his part, Lance had spent most of the flight screaming and was clutching an arm around Danny's neck tight enough to nearly cut off his breath.

The possibility of passing out mid-flight contributed to his decision to set the anchor down several blocks closer to the fight than he had initially planned, although it didn't help much. Lance continued to panic, clinging to Danny for dear life even after the teen had landed on the rain-soaked sidewalk.

" _Please_ stop shouting Mr. Thunder, you're killing me here."

Lance's eyes snapped open and he quickly scrambled away from Danny until his back was literally against a wall. "W- W- What are you going to do to me?!"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Uh. Nothing, I guess. Are you going to be OK here?"

"I... What?"

"You know, 'are you OK?' Like, are you going to be able to get back to the studio or wherever you're supposed to be right now."

"You're not going to kill me?"

"...no."

"You won't steal my soul or anything?"

Danny frowned. "No."

"You aren't going to grind up my bones and eat—"

"No, I'm not going to hurt you!"

The teen had thrown his arms wildly in the air and his eyes were glowing a phosphorescent green, but Lance just flashed him a pearly-white smile that somehow seemed genuine. "Well hey, thanks! You know, for a ghost you don't seem that evil."

"Man, what do you even think ghosts are like?"

"Well, so far half the ghosts I've met have tried to kill me."

 _"The guy's got a point champ."_

Danny sighed. "I guess, but y'know not all of us are like that. I've been fighting dangerous ghosts for a couple of weeks now." After a moment's pause, he added, "which I should really get back to, actually."

"Going to take down the Rain Revenant, huh? Great stuff. Terrific." Lance quickly closed the distance between them and caught Danny in an enthusiastic handshake, toothy smile still present. "Best of luck, and try not to die out there!"

Danny did his best to smile at the sort-of-compliment and took flight just as Agent A came running out of a nearby alley. With well-practiced speed, the agent took aim with his rifle and fired off several rounds that might have met their mark in better weather.

When the man took a moment to reload, Danny turned on him and shouted back through the rain. "Hey, have you thought about maybe attacking ghost-nado over there instead of the friendly ghost?"

All he got in reply was a sneer, and "There's no such damn thing."

Rolling his eyes, Danny Phantom dodged the gunfire with relative ease, before taking off toward suburbs; with any luck the hunter would get caught up in the twists and turns of the roads and lose him, though he only made it a few yards before his communicator crackled and Sam's voice was in his ear.

"Danny? Can you hear me?"

He nearly stopped in midair from surprise. "Sam? Where are you? How'd you get a Fenton Phone?"

Tucker's laughter took up the line next. "Is that seriously what your parents called their walkie-talkies?"

"They're not just walkie-talkies, Tuck, they also filter out spectral noise or something."

"But I can hear you just fine," came the confused reply.

"Shut up, Tucker. Danny, we're in your basement. We saw you saving the news guy on TV and getting chased off by those government agents. Your parents aren't home, though, so we're going to have to come out and help you ourselves. Where are you right now?"

"Sam, no, listen, I need you to call... Uh... I think it was 1-312-... Something." His train of thought was briefly interrupted as he had to roll to dodge a spray of bullets. "Damn it, I have no idea! The number is written on a card on my desk. Ask to speak to Bradley Baker in bursaries and tell him what's going on."

"Danny—"

"Seriously, he'll take care of these guys in white. Or _the_ Guys in White, whatever. I'm not fighting alone here, there are two other ghosts attacking Vortex. Don't worry about me, the best thing you can do is stay there and let me know if anything happens!"

"Just... Be careful, alright?"

"I will. Promise."

* * *

By the time he managed to shake off his pursuer, Danny was several blocks away from the action. After a brief search, he spotted Vortex fighting the yetis near a small park.

He stopped for a moment to find a good angle to attack from when a clatter of gunfire from his right told him he hadn't _actually_ lost Agent A just yet. With a heavy sigh, he tapped the transmit button on the side of the Fenton Phone.

"Hey, Sam, Tucker? How about that phone call? These guys are a serious pain in the a-hh!" A bullet grazed his arm, tearing the fabric of his suit but failing to draw blood. Deciding not to give the assassin below another chance, Danny plunged toward the rooftops below to take cover.

"Danny?" Sam's voice crackled over the line. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, fine, that bald-headed jerk made a lucky shot. I'm fine. But how about getting rid of them? Did you make the call?"

"I found the number and said the thing about bursaries, but the line went dead right after that. What was supposed to happen, or do you— Wait, what'd you say Tucker?"

"Danny, somebody is totally sending your parents a fax!" Tucker almost sounded incredulous.

"What's it say?"

"Uh, I think... It looks like somebody wants us to do some eavesdropping? Hold up, I'm going to patch the walkie-talkies into this secure channel."

"Fenton Phones," Sam corrected.

"I'm not calling them that. No offense, Danny."

"None taken." Danny shifted across the gravel and tried to take a peak off the edge of the roof; unfortunately, Agent A was staring straight at him from across the street. He ducked as the gunfire mingled with the sounds of rain, the wind, distant ectoblasts, and Tucker's thunderous typing. The firing stopped just as the headset fizzled out, before crackling to life once more.

"—order came in just a moment ago, we want you and your partner back in Maryland."

Danny recognized Agent A's voice. "Negative, I am currently engaged with primary target Alfa-Papa-1."

 _"We're their primary target? Wow, I guess that's an honor?"_

"It was not a request. The order just came in from the top. You can review section 73 of your pocket reference copy of the field agent handbook on the flight back if there are any further questions."

'A' let out a long sigh. "There are, and I intend to. Is that revision 3 of the handbook?"

"Affirmative. Now disengage immediately. Weiss out."

The line cut out and Sam returned. "Wow. I never thought I'd say this, but thank God for bureaucracy."

* * *

When Danny finally managed to return to the battle, Vortex had completely shielded himself behind a whirlwind, cackling madly. Föhn and Chinook were attempting to penetrate the dervish, but their attacks were being carried off target by the powerful crosswinds, raining shards of ice down on the surrounding city streets.

The frontal assault clearly wasn't going to work; either Danny and the yetis would tire themselves out long before Vortex had to wind down, or he'd have half the neighborhood destroyed before they could subdue him. Phantom must have caught his pessimistic train of thought because the ghost _hmm_ ed.

'Don't hold back, I'd love to hear a better idea right now.'

 _"We've got two options champ. How'd that song go...? Either you can try to crawl through the hailstones, or hit home at the eye of the storm."_

' _Seriously_? Now isn't the time for quoting Sam's weird goth music!'

 _"OK, less cryptic; you can_ **fly**. _Stop wasting your time down here at tornado-level."_

Danny could have smacked himself. He _could_ fly. And if he could get above the funnel cloud, he'd have a clear shot at the... Well, Vortex. He flew up along the cyclone wall, nimbly dodging the stray ball of ice that occasionally flew out of the sides.

Below him, Föhn was not so lucky. The ghost was hit with a block of ice the size of a basketball; the impact wasn't audible over the howling gale, but Danny could see the yeti go limp as he fell to the ground. Chinook stopped her attack and shot after her partner, causing Vortex to renew his wild laughter.

" _Ha!_ I do not even need to attack you fools! You will kill _yourselves_ for me, while I remake the world's climate in my own image! Soon, all will tremble before the forces of nature!"

 _"Can we shut him up now? This loudmouth is giving me a headache."_

'Yeah, _gladly_.'

He must have been two hundred feet above the ground, and he could finally see the manic form shaking with laughter from the middle of his blustery defenses. "Hey, you overblown bag of wind! Up here!"

At Danny's words, Vortex whirled around and stared up at him in disbelief. "Who _dares_ to interrupt my victory monologue?!"

"Dude, you need to chill out!" The icy ectoblast sailed easily through the calmer winds and hit the eye of the storm, and the rest of its face, too. Vortex heaved a wheezing gasp and fell over, thoroughly winded. The massive ghost hit a sporting goods store on his way down, flattening the building. Danny paled slightly.

'You don't think anybody was in there, do you?'

 _"Nah, it's like 10 am. That city bylaw banning Sunday morning shopping finally came in handy for something, huh?"_

'First time for everything, I guess.'

 _"Speaking of which, I think your battle banter is getting better."_

'I kinda went for the obvious jokes there. But thanks.' Danny smirked, flying down to help Chinook with Föhn, who was only just regaining consciousness.

"You two OK?"

Föhn spoke uncharacteristically quietly. It was almost a normal speaking volume. "Yes, young one, thank you. I do not believe we could have done this without you." Chinook murmured her agreement.

"So uh... What are we doing with this guy now?" He pointed over his shoulder at the unconscious form of Vortex, still laying motionless in the rubble.

* * *

It turned out, the easy part was tying the limp form of Vortex to the roof of the RV. The hard part was dragging him down into the Fentonworks lab, particularly when both Sam and Tucker practically tackled Danny into a hug the moment he crossed the threshold.

Chinook had already disappeared through the portal, vowing to repay the elder Fentons somehow for their assistance, leaving Föhn to drag the massive, unconscious body through the portal alone. In spite of his own growing tiredness, Danny sort of felt bad for the ghost, whose hastily bandaged head wound had barely stopped bleeding.

"Are you sure you don't want some help carrying Vortex? I wouldn't mind a quick flight in the Ghost Zone."

Föhn shook his head with a small smile. "I am fine, young one. Chinook should return with _die Techniker_ quite soon in any case. I will just get a bit of a head-start."

The teen relented easily and waved Föhn a farewell. The latter had barely made it through the portal before, as if on cue, two new ghostly yetis replete with toolbelts and safety goggles stepped into the lab, joined shortly after by a grinning Chinook. "Hey, humans! These here are some of our best technicians. They oughta be able to help you all out with that scanner you were talkin' about. This is Borealis," she paused as Borealis waved, before gesturing to the other yeti, "And this—"

Danny cut her off with a playful grin and finger-guns. "I think I see how this works. I'm guessing your name is Australis, am I right?"

The yeti looked highly offended. "What? No. My name is Rob."

Jack thankfully broke the following silence, as Chinook awkwardly mumbled her excuses and stepped back into the Ghost Zone. "Well, lemme show you two up to the Ops Center! So how much do you know about magnetic resonance?"

His father and Borealis chatted about hydrogen bonds all the way up the stairs, but Rob stayed silent, for the most part; Danny thought he heard a grumbled "I look _nothing like_ Australis..." as they passed by.

That left Danny alone in the basement with his friends, his mom, and the return of the morning's headache now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He tried to hide it, but Maddie caught on quickly. "You should take it easy for the rest of the day, sweetie." Concern lined her voice as she stooped down to examine Danny's bright green eyes. "You look tired after all that fresh air."

"Hey, don't worry Mrs. F." Sam had sidled up to him and looped an arm around his neck possessively. "We'll make sure Danny relaxes this afternoon."

"100% stress-free, normal teenage stuff. Guaranteed." Tucker was suddenly on his other side, solemnly holding up a hand as if taking an oath.

Maddie smiled as the three turned to leave the basement, although as they made their way through the living room, they heard her running up the stairs behind them. "Ah, Danny, are you sure you want to go out like that...?"

Danny looked down at himself and realized he was still in ghost mode. "Oh... Right." Separating himself from his friends, he let the transformative rings wash over him... leaving him wearing his pajamas. "Uh, be back in a moment. I'm going to go put a shirt on."

When he returned to the living room, dodging around his dad in the hallway and bounding down the stairs two at a time, his friends were talking in low voices with his mother. When they noticed he was in the room, she subtly nudged the two teens towards her son before Jack called her over from the top of the steps.

As soon as his friends were close enough, he asked in a conspiratorial tone, "What was that all about?"

Tucker held up a small silvery object. Danny could see it was a duplicate of the key to the front door. "Your mom said she wanted us to have these."

"'In case you need them'," Sam continued, miming the air-quotes, "so it's just some typical helicopter-parenting. Welcome to the club."

"Please, Sam. Don't say that too loud, or they'll be unveiling the Fenton Surveillance Helicopter by next Sunday."

The tech-geek in Tucker visibly lit up at the prospect. "Oh man, can you imagine how cool that would be, though? It could be like those UAVs the military uses, but as a helicopter!"

Danny's groan was cut off by Sam intervening on his behalf. "Hey guys, as long as we're leaving," she not-so-subtly pushed them both toward the door, "do you want to check out the director's cut of THX 1138? We've got just enough time to catch the matinee!"

"Isn't that rated R...? We won't be able to get into the theater."

"Good thing we know Danny, then. Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton!" She cheerily waved back at the couple. Returning the wave, they looked up just in time to watch Danny get shoved through the open door of Fentonworks, and out into the sunshine.

* * *

Much later, the door had barely opened enough to let light spill across the darkened stoop before Danny was quite violently pulled inside and crushed in a hug with a shout of "Danny!"

"Agh-! Jazz! Can't! Breathe!" She released her steely grip around his chest and settled for holding him by the shoulders, her eyes frantically roving over his face.

"I'm so glad you're home! I got the email from mom and dad saying they had captured Phantom and I was worried that you were going to get _hurt_ or something, but I didn't want to tell them your secret and I _hope_ that was the right thing to do, but—"

 _"So do you think this weekend was more stressful for us, or Jazz?"_

'Jazz. Definitely Jazz.'

"—ghost on the _news_ , _**twice**_ , and then you got shot at and I just about freaked out and called and we must have broken 15 different traffic laws trying to get home before... Before..."

Danny extracted himself from her grip and did his best to not laugh. "Jazz. It's OK. Nothing bad happened. Mom and dad know; we're all fine."

"Oh." Suddenly she scowled and punched him in the shoulder. "Why didn't you say so?! I've been freaking out since before I left Indiana!"

He couldn't help it. He laughed. "Sorry, sis. I'll try not to do it again?"

His sister fought back a smile of her own. "You'd better not. And good for you. Telling mom and dad, I mean. I just know it would have been horrible trying to keep that secret from them."

"Heh, yeah. I'm just glad they're cool with it. It'd suck being the only teenager who can fight off ghosts and not being allowed to." '...which is my way of saying you might have been right. About using these powers to _do_ something, you know?'

 _"Of course I was right champ. We did some good today."_

'...You know, knowing that you're me, calling me "champ" seems pretty egotistical.'

Phantom gave him a sort of mental shrug. _"One of us has to be."_

* * *

Author's Note:

 _And now, the balance of chapter 18, wherein Phantom and Fenton collectively decide "why resolve today the conversations you can have tomorrow?" and then some light action to go with your order of dialogue and complicated plot threads._

 _All told writing this chapter took 7 weeks, and this certainly made for a challenging edit. If one were to look hard enough it would likely be possible to tell which sections were written together and which were written much earlier or later, but I will have done my job if it is not too obvious._

 _Either way. It is done now. Since I managed to use this little period of writer's block to do a fair amount of writing on later chapters (among other things...) I suspect_ Disconnected _will likely be "complete" before we reach the 6-month anniversary of its release._

 _Here is hoping, anyway._


	23. Chapter 19

"Dude, you look like hell."

"...can he even hear us? He looks pretty spaced."

"Hello Major Danny, are you receiving?" Sam waved her hand about an inch in front of Danny's face, and he finally snapped to attention.

"Huh? Did you say something?"

"Sorry space man, are we interrupting your scheduled hour of staring at," she swung his locker door fully open and pulled out the frontmost book, " _For Whom the Bell Tolls_? It has a really nice cover, I'll give you that."

Tucker was chuckling behind him as Danny grabbed the buckram-bound book back from her, shutting the locker with a weary sigh. "I think this weekend is catching up with me. I feel like I haven't slept in days."

"Hey, look at the bright side man." Danny braced himself for what Tucker considered the bright side, "at least after this assignment we don't have any other English homework until next week."

The teen stopped in the middle of the hallway to facepalm.

"...you didn't finish the English homework, did you?"

"I spent most of Friday night in the Ghost Zone, so I was going to do it Saturday."

Sam smiled grimly. "Buuuut then you got caught up in Ice Capades at the water park."

"And _then_ I was going to work on it Sunday—"

"I guess I kind of remember some stuff coming up that day," Tucker added.

"—so yeah... Do you think Lancer will give me an extension?"

"...we're not going to see you at lunch, are we?"

* * *

"Now, in anaphase, the microtubules contract and the chromosomes are actually split apart by the tension. Would anybody care to tell me what happens next?" Ms. Soucie smiled, roving over the class from the chalkboard, looking for a glimmer of interest in teenage eyes.

Unfortunately for Danny, he was the first one to make eye contact. It wasn't that he had been _completely_ ignoring the class, just that he was completely exhausted from playing catch-up all day, and didn't trust himself to answer correctly. Especially when half the class was now looking at him after the teacher's inquiring "Danny?".

 _"Psst! 'Telophase'."_

"Uh, is it telophase?"

The biology teacher chuckled. Goodnaturedly, not that the intentions made Danny blush any less. "Don't worry, we're not on Jeopardy, the answer doesn't have to be in the form of a question. Nevertheless, Danny is quite right; the next stage of division is telophase, from the Greek for 'End Stage'. The two copies are pulled apart and each new cell can go off on their merry little way."

Sam stopped doodling in her margins long enough to give him a congratulatory nudge and wink, as he mentally thanked his ghost. 'Thanks for that.'

 _"No problem. It's kind of novel for me to be helping you with the talky parts of school."_

'...any chance you want to go to school by yourself so I can rest?"

 _"Not a chance champ. I like being more selective about my participation. Speaking of which, look alive, the artiste is nearly finished."_

The teacher had scrawled a hasty chalk drawing of two cells, each presumably going off on their merry little way, before turning back to the class. "Now, typically, this continues for a finite number of divisions in a healthy cell until eventually the breakdown of the telomeres inhibits proper formation of chromosomes and the cell dies."

 _"...do you mind if I ask something?"_

Danny rolled his eyes. 'You see, you love this stuff. Go right ahead.'

"Um, Ms. Soucie?" Phantom asked using their voice, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Hmm, we _are_ in Jeopardy, aren't we? But certainly, ask away."

"I'm just wondering why they can't just copy forever. Why is it 'healthy' to have to die?"

"Mmm. Good question. Now, this isn't English, so it's not my job to get philosophical here, but death _is_ a natural, important part of life. Without it, things would never change or grow, you see. We actually _do_ have a special name for cells that can split indefinitely, and it's not a good one; cancer." She gave the teen a small smile as he shrank back a bit into his seat. "Besides. Would you really want to live forever?"

The moment the room had been waiting for finally came when the ringing of the bells cut off any answer she might have expected. "All right class, it looks like we're going to have to end on philosophy after all. We'll be picking this up on Wednesday. Have a good day!" she added loudly, over the general din of students clamoring to get out of school for the day.

He and Sam caught up with Tucker in the hallway.

"Hey, guys. How'd bio go?"

Sam answered while Danny was still halfway through taking back control of his voicebox. "Pretty good. No homework, anyway. You?"

"None at all. So, movie night?"

"Sure! How about you Danny, you in?"

"I—" The sound came out with a high-pitched squeak to the amusement of his friends; he cleared his throat and ran his tongue across the back of his teeth, then tried again. "Sorry, blame Phantom... Sure, I just have to get my assignment to Lancer first. I'll meet you guys at my place?"

"Geez, Soucie was right, it _is_ always a question with you isn't it?"

* * *

"Mr. Lancer?" Danny hung awkwardly in the doorway, holding the hastily completed homework assignment. A stranger in a smart suit was sitting on a desk across from Lancer with his arms folded; a serious expression was worn under thinning blond hair, but his light gray eyes betrayed that he was enjoying himself far more than the teacher opposite him. Clearly, he was interrupting a conversation. On the other hand, Danny had been asked to submit his homework at the end of the day, and he hadn't worked on it all the way through his free period just for it to be discounted because the teacher had double-booked himself. "Sorry again, but I have my answers here."

"Yes, Mr. Fenton, I'll just be a moment—"

"That's fine Larry, I think I have everything I need for today. I look forward to working with you again." The stranger uncrossed his arms and stood up. With a toothy grin, he offered the teacher a handshake, which was returned without comment or change in expression. Lancer didn't even bother to get out of his chair.

As Danny made his way into the room, the stranger's coat pocket started ringing. He pulled out a slick, gray Nokia, distracting him just long enough to run head-long into Danny, sending his homework spilling onto the floor.

"Sorry about that, kid!" He looked mortified and before Danny could protest, had stooped down to pick up the fallen papers. When he stood again, he shot the teen a familiar-looking smile. "These cell phones, they'll be the death of us all at this rate." He chuckled lightly at his own joke, before handing over the pile of papers. "You have a good night now."

It wasn't quite 3 o'clock yet.

"Uh, yeah. You too." With a small smile, the man turned sharply and left the room, his phone conversation receding down the hall. Danny stood there bewildered until Lancer politely cleared his throat to bring him back to the present.

"Mr. Fenton, your assignment please."

He blinked in surprise, remembering where he was. "Right, sorry Mr. Lancer. These, uh, might be out of order," he added, handing them over.

The teacher just smirked. "That's quite alright, I should be quite capable of discerning the correct ordering." He quickly flipped through the packet, stopping at a manilla envelope tucked between the pages. Lancer pulled it out and offered it back to Danny "Although I believe this is yours, correct?"

Danny had never seen it before, although it did have "Daniel Fenton" neatly printed on it. He hesitated for a moment, then took it carefully, his heart racing. "...yeah, it must be. Thanks."

"Of course."

Danny teetered on the edge of leaving the room or asking the obvious question. Lancer must have missed his discomfort, as he had already begun reading over Danny's paper. "Um, Mr. Lancer? Who was that?"

"I believe he called himself Paul Butcher, some sort of, ah..." The teacher flipped over a business card that had been sitting on his desk, examining the small text. "Regional manager for the Department of Education, I suppose." He smiled wryly at the already pale teen, who went a few shades lighter as all his blood seemed to rush to his legs. "We're only on Monday and this is already the third time I've been interrupted by government bureaucrats... But please, don't let that keep you from working on Friday's assigned reading, hmm? And, for future reference," Lancer flipped back to the front page of the packet, "this novel takes place in _Spain_ , not Italy."

"Oh... Uh, whoops. Thank you. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Fenton." With one final smile, Lancer returned to his reading, and Danny tried to look nonchalant while fleeing the building. He didn't open the envelope until he was a block away.

When he had read over the contents, he had a funny feeling that man hadn't been from the Department of Education.

* * *

"So that's how they tracked you down, huh?"

"I guess it must be. I mean, they were there almost as soon as the fight entered Amity Park."

The goth still looked a bit disturbed by the revelation. "What I want to know is how the Guys in White put ghost-detecting cameras up across half the city without anybody noticing."

From Danny's other side, Tucker replied without looking up from his PDA. "You know Sam, with a high-visibility vest you can do pretty much anything without anybody noticing." He looked like he was deep in concentration as he said it, but after a few quick taps of his stylus, he broke into a broad grin. "On the plus side, it looks like this Baker guy's map was right, there's one right around here somewhere."

"It wasn't Baker this time. I haven't seen this guy before today, but—"

"Oh man, this is bad!"

"What is it?" Both Danny and Sam were alarmed by the outburst and had to turn to face their friend who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

"It's just... They didn't even bother securing the wireless networks, they just hid the SSID! Literally, anybody with a wireless adapter newer than a year old could do a scan and tell you there's a network here, and they didn't even bother with WEP let _alone_ WPA."

Sam contemplated that for a moment before turning to face Danny. "Care to translate?"

"I like that you think I understood more of that than you did."

"Come on, guys." Team Phantom's self-designated sysop rolled his eyes. "This is network security basics."

"Hey, c'mon Tuck, we've got the artsy schedules, remember?" Danny shot back, motioning between himself and Sam, "I'm not in network security 101 or whatever."

"Fine. It's like they didn't put their address in the Yellow Pages, so they figured they could safely leave the front door unlocked." His gaze returned to the PDA. "Now that I'm on their network, I just need to get into their systems, and... Then... Oh, oh man! Holy _crap,_ this is _awful_!"

" _What_?!"

When Tucker looked back at his friends, his expression would have been more appropriate for a wake. "The admin password is 'password'."

That earned him a punch in the arm from Sam.

"Ow! Man, _nobody_ here appreciates security..." Tucker resumed tapping away on his PDA with a slight frown.

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. "I do too, Tuck, but right now I just want to take out Big Brother's eyes in the sky so I can go home and sleep."

"Why don't you just shoot ghostly lasers at them or something?"

"I mean, I guess I could, but where exactly is this thing even?"

Sam pointed skyward at a utility pole halfway down the block. "I think I see it over there. A traffic camera wouldn't be pointed that high up, would it? It'd be looking at the road."

"Good eye." Danny smiled and took aim, eyes flashing green. "Now let's poke out theirs."

The shot went low; very low. The ectoplasmic blast burned clear through the wooden pillar, which quickly split in two. The top half toppled over, but the three teenagers were already halfway down the nearest alleyway before it hit the asphalt.

Sam peeked around the corner, carefully checking for pursuers. "I don't see any sparks, but I'm guessing that block just lost HBO." She turned back to her two friends, who were doubled over panting. "Oh, come on! We barely ran three blocks."

"How... How are you even..."

"Come on Danny, I do cardio. Besides, how are _you_ winded? I'm pretty sure I've seen you do 30 miles an hour in the air."

"Ghost powers... Don't transfer... Nearly as much as I'd like them to." He straightened up before slumping back against the building behind him.

"So uh, how about those ghost powers? Aren't you usually a better aim, or am I not talking to the same ExAstris90 who can take down an entire enemy squad with one pistol clip?"

"...how do you know about that?"

"Well gee, I think you may have mentioned it one or twelve times." She took in his confused expression for a moment before adding, "...are you sure you're OK?"

"I'm doing better than Tucker is." Danny pointed at the wheezing teen who had transferred to leaning against a fire hydrant rather than trying to stand.

"I don't really mean your endurance, Danny. Your right eye is kind of... Weird."

He blinked, focusing back on her. "...weird how?"

"Weird like until just now it looked like it wasn't _really_ keeping up with your left eye? Do you have some kind of ghost-astigmatism?"

"Seriously. You can't just put _ghost-_ in front of a word and make it a thing, Sam."

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm imaging things."

Now that she mentioned it, it did seem like things were a bit... Fuzzy. Flat, even. He hadn't noticed anything before, so maybe it was all in his head. Yeah. No need to worry. "I probably just missed the camera because I'm tired. Nothing a good night's sleep won't fix."

"Either way," Sam continued, "I guess that's one ghost sensor down, only 16 left standing. Maybe we should put aside the fireworks for the moment, though?"

"Yeah, maybe. Hey, Tuck? You still think you can shut down the rest for now? ...Tuck?"

The response was soft and quiet, and Danny found himself leaning over his grounded friend to hear it. "You'll have to go on without me," his voice trembled, as his hand suddenly reached out to clutch Danny's shirt collar, "tell... Tell my mother... I won't be home for taco night!"

"Oh for..." Sam was on him in two long strides and had manhandled him to his feet, supporting his shaking weight with an arm under his armpits. "Come on, let's just get to Danny's house. You can die after movie night."

* * *

Tucker did, in fact, survive the trip back to Fentonworks; within a few blocks, actually, he had recovered enough to walk-and-hack ("Not exactly wardriving, but it'll do"). Once he finally got access to the Guys in White's networks, he set up a loop to deliver placeholder data to the networks and the trio decided to call it a day.

It was only when they got into the rec room, the house being mostly silent aside from faint murmurs and clanging far above them, that Danny realized he had no idea what to watch.

"Not a problem!" Sam unzipped her backpack, extracting several tapes from the spider's maw and placing them on the table. "Tucker and I hit the Blockbuster next to Casper' while you were cloistered away in the library."

Danny just looked at Sam.

She looked back at him, innocently.

"Seriously?"

"What's up, Danny?" Tucker asked, with a clear shit-eating grin.

" _The Others_ , _The Sixth Sense_ , _The Haunting_..." Danny read off the titles as he went, shuffling them around a bit, " _The Ring_ , freaking _The Haunted Mansion_... _Ghost World_ isn't even about ghosts, you know that, right?"

"We've got a theme going!" Sam replied, with unrestrained glee, "Don't be such a grump, it's our first annual Goin' Ghost Movie Marathon."

"Gee, how did that start?"

"The usual way. Start at the beginning," She grabbed _The Others_ out of its case and popped it into the VCR. "And when we come to the end, stop!"

 _"I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I like Sam."_

The teens had just about made it halfway through _The Sixth Sense_ before the banging above them stopped. Danny's parents, along with the yetis, had been working for roughly a day and a half on fixing their strange scanning device. With any luck, it would work on the first try, and they would actually go to sleep that night.

He had a feeling it had done just that when the picture on the CRT momentarily stretched and compressed like rainbow-patterned taffy, a feeling confirmed a moment later by enthusiastic cheering. A few moments after that, both his parents practically burst through the door, smiles firmly embedded on tired faces.

"So you guys got the Fenton Resonance Imager working, huh?"

"We sure did Danno! Come on, let's get you scanned up."

The enthusiasm was infectious. Danny chuckled, turning back to his friends as he left the room. "I'll be back in a couple minutes guys, don't bother pausing."

Within moments, he was on a table, being slowly fed into an enormous metal doughnut, presided over by his parents sitting at some computers across the room.

'You know, it's funny. If it were any earlier in the week I _really_ don't know if I'd have trusted mom and dad to do this.'

 _"Yeah."_

'I had a nightmare sort of like this, actually.'

 _"Oh."_

'...Wow Phantom, try not to talk my ear off, you chatterbox.'

The ghost gave him an annoying mental shrug but didn't comment further. Danny was about to try to press the conversation further when suddenly, an alarm started blaring in his ear. "I know it's loud, but try not to move sweetie," his mother said after his sudden jump, barely heard over the now clanging machine, "you'll mess up the picture."

He grumbled "Could've warned me...", but the sound was entirely lost to the renewed alarm sound, following by more loud knocking, clicking, more alarms, distant gunfire, and on and on the machine went for entirely _too_ long. He passed clear through until his head came out the far side as the device scanned down to his legs, before being fed back through for a second pass. He had no idea how long the whole process had taken, but Danny was pretty sure it would leave his ears ringing for a few days to come.

Then all was quiet. The seconds ticked on into what felt like minutes of silence before the table slid smoothly out of the scanner.

He had a bad feeling he wasn't going to like the results when his dad didn't get out of his chair. The man sat there looking at the screen in disbelief, while his mom walked up to him looking grave and saying nothing.

She was at his side looking at him still lying there on the table before she finally spoke up. "...Danny? Can you sit up?"

He sat up on the table easily, with a confused expression. "Yeah, of course. Is everything OK?"

She clicked on a pen light, shining it quickly at one eye, then the other, watching his pupils. It was only then that Danny noticed he couldn't see out of his right eye.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

"Danny, it's going to be fine. I just have to ask some questions." She set down the pen light absently and picked up the nearest notepad and pen she could find. His dad still hadn't budged from his seat, but he looked incredibly deep in thought.

"You mentioned you've had a bit of a headache lately. When... How long have you had it?"

"Uh, I dunno. A couple days I guess. Maybe longer."

"Has it gotten worse at all?"

"Well yeah, but I've been taking a lot of hits lately, you know?"

She scribbled something down. "Any problems concentrating in school?"

"No."

Maddie raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Well, no more than normal. I've been really tired after that weekend we had."

A much longer note this time.

"Have you had any other... Well, mental difficulties? Gaps in your memory? Maybe trouble with words? Or... Maybe with recognizing people, getting disoriented...?" Her rambling line of inquiry was left hanging in the air with a strangled sort of hand gesture.

"Mom, where are you going with this? You're really starting to scare me here!"

"I-" She paused for a moment and set down the notepad, hands moving to his shoulders in what passed for a calming motion. "I just need to know... Which one you are."

"What do you mean, 'which one am I?' We've been over this! Phantom isn't controlling me!"

"Danny, sweetie, please just calm—"

"I'll be a lot more calm once you tell me what the heck is wrong!" He nearly jumped out of his skin when his dad suddenly entered his field of view from his blind spot.

His father crouched down to meet Danny at eye level. "I'll tell you. We can _definitely_ fix this. Don't worry about that part, Danny-boy—"

"It's going to be very treatable, definitely," his mother added.

"—it looks like Phantom..." the man halted, searching for the correct words. Danny could tell the ghost was nervous, too. Perhaps more than he was.

'Damn it Phantom, I _know_ you know what's going on. Will you just say it already?'

 _"...Sorry about this, champ."_ Danny had expected sarcasm. Hearing the specter so sorrowful was... Wrong, somehow.

'Phantom...?'

* * *

Author's Note:

 _You may have noticed the small reference to a plot hole (as pointed out by MsFrizzle) in "The Home Front"._

 _I would like to say it was planned that way from the beginning._

 _But that would be a lie._


	24. Chapters 3 and 4

_"My... Spirit, I suppose? It got tangled up with yours. The next thing I knew, I was in your body, getting thrown across the room. Or uh, in your mind, anyway. It's all disjointed, but now I feel as if I've always been a part of you. Like, I remember things from years ago I can't have been there for. I know all your hopes and fears, and for the most part, they're mine too, but... I also still feel a little separated from you. I guess the fact that we're having a conversation at all is proof of that."_

That was truly about the best explanation I could come up with for the events of the past day or two. It was weird and muddled, but I could pretty clearly see everything like it had happened to me, but... Not? And then suddenly my own... Me-ness, picked up out of nowhere just where the weird memories ended.

Hell, I can't even explain it to myself. So I guess by definition I had no chance of explaining it to Danny.

I was going to need some time to think things over. Fortunately for me, Danny spared a glance at his alarm clock and seemed frustrated by the lateness of this whole strange conversation. I could think it over while he slept, and with any luck, it would make a bit of sense in the morning.

Danny sighed and I couldn't help but chuckle a little. _"I like our little midnight chats."_ Danny didn't seem to share my enthusiasm as he dragged himself back onto the mattress and under the covers. _"So, what do you say champ? As long as we're stuck together, can we at least cooperate?"_

He finally gave a weak "OK", half thought at me, and half muttered to his pillow.

Cooperation. That was a nice place to start. Trust would come with time.

* * *

There was something weird about my memories. When compared to Danny's memories, that is.

Honestly, the fact that we remember things differently was weird enough. I didn't even notice until I could sort of feel his brain processing through the day, in some way. All kinds of thoughts were flying fast and furious, and they seemed to be drawing directly on memories that _I_ certainly didn't recognize. It was sort of strange.

To me, dinner was Jazz and our mom giving us concerned glances, dad smiling broadly and offsetting their skittishness with his energetic geniality. It wasn't an uncomfortable time, although mom was clearly quite stressed out, bunched up in her chair, and Jazz was clearly analyzing something or another in every little motion Danny made. But it was warm. It wasn't fear so much as worry. Dad wasn't ignorant to the atmosphere of the room, he was just trying to counteract it, and I was deeply appreciative of the gesture.

For Danny? Dinner was him and his family sitting in a room. The four of them went over some of the events of the day. His sister talked about school the next day, and some of the things she expected she might have to do. His father talked loudly, and mostly about ghost hunting. Danny had little interest in this. His mother was mostly silent, which was good. He followed her lead, mostly saying nothing except when directly addressed, usually by his sister. The day had given him much to think about, in particular, whether or not I existed.

Their body language was the clearest way to tell what was going on with the rest of our family, but Danny couldn't have cared less. He just took whatever they were saying at face value. I don't want to say he was _oblivious,_ but it did seem like he was doing things the hard way.

It seemed about the same for every event we both remembered clearly enough for me to make a comparison, a peculiar pattern of empathy and what seemed (to me at least) like cold detachment. I was about to turn in for the night myself, resolving to ask him about it tomorrow, when Danny's mind started doing something weird.

And it was _very_ weird, in a night filled with weird revelations for both of us. He was trying to run, but nothing moved. The little signals to control the legs were calling out, but the phone was off the hook. The muscle group you are trying to reach is unavailable at this time. Please hang up, and try again.

Was this what a dream looked like from the outside? The timing was probably about right. I decided to take a closer look right around the time freakin' Nosferatu was about to have a nibble of Sam's neck. Was this how Danny seriously saw himself? Or worse, how he saw us...?

 _"Whoa, ease up there Dracula. You seriously have no idea what ghosts are like, do you?"_

The illusion shattered into a million pieces. Suddenly a poor, confused 14-year-old was wondering where the hell he was. From where I metaphorically stood, I could almost feel that horror-show threatening to butt back in, so almost on impulse I tried to drag things away from whatever little ray of sunshine had caused the nightmare in the first place.

 _"How about the living room? Clearly, we need to talk this out a bit."_

And lo, it was so. I found myself sitting in a chair opposite my other half who was slumped back on the sofa. He was still shaking. As soon as he noticed me, he decided I would look best shrouded in a bedsheet with poorly-cut eye-holes.

 _"...wow, really?"_ Very spooky. What was this, a Charlie Brown cartoon? _"Whatever, I can work with this..."_

I'd have come back to the differences between us later. Something connected us beyond simply being the in the same head, but that puzzle would have to wait. The most pressing issue, clearly, was Danny's two _completely different_ and yet _equally inaccurate_ ideas of what exactly a ghost was.

* * *

Once that awkwardness was behind us, and ignoring the fact that it was already 2 in the morning (and the alarm would be going off in like five hours), I was pretty much ready for a good, long night's rest.

I could tell Danny was, too. I'm almost positive he had never had a nightmare that vivid, and with any luck, his subconscious would stop being a dick so it could be his last.

Don't get me wrong. I liked swooping in like Errol Flynn to save the day, but if yesterday had taught me anything it's that I'd much rather deal with awake and alert Danny than a grumpy teen running on carbohydrates and caffeine.

...that _may_ have had a little something to do with what happened after the alarm went off.

I was jerked awake when Danny slammed my hand down on several buttons atop the alarm, one of which was the off switch. He, on the other hand, didn't actually regain consciousness; and this is after mom knocked on the door and he mumbled out something along the lines of "ya immup".

I very openly rolled my eyes. I'd just have to get us started. It's not like he would sleep through the whole morning, right?

Step one, get off this bed.

And listen, there's something that you have to know right away. Standing up is actually _really hard_ ; it's like riding a bike. The first time you look hilarious and probably fall over.

There's all these muscles involved even with something as simple as moving a leg, let alone sitting upright with all the stupid little bullshit muscles in the abdomen. Pardon my French, but I'm pretty sure half of these transverse-obliques or whatever they're called are just redundant. I guess we'll learn all about them in gym class some day, but that's only if we actually get to school to start with.

Anyway, I spent longer than I care to say wriggling toward the side of the bed like a fish stranded on a pier until I finally had our legs swung over, hanging above the floor. It's like I had some kind of vague muscle memory of doing this before, on the left side anyway. The asymmetry didn't help, but honestly, I was used to letting Danny control the walking, so even once I had more or less gotten us up and on our feet things had only progressed from fish-out-of-water to maybe what you'd expect out of a newborn deer who was suffering from a stroke.

And by the time I was successfully walking/shuffling, the clock read 7:53. Terrific.

* * *

In the end, Danny actually _did_ manage to sleep through the entire morning routine, including the fifteen-step process that was getting in and out of the bathtub to take a shower. Fortunately by the time I had ambled down the stairs I was starting to get enough of a feel for things that I successfully poured a bowl of cereal with minimal spillage. Jazz didn't notice, being highly involved in writing some kind of multi-page epic despite it being the 'zeroth' day of school, and mostly seemed to only be in the kitchen to occasionally nibble at a bagel. Multigrain, toasted, nothing on it. Weirdo.

It was on that thought that our parents burst into the kitchen from the lab below, talking animatedly. I had no idea what about. Without Danny around to interpret it was just so much pointless sound, but I _could_ tell when it was suddenly directed at me. Dad put a hand on my shoulder and I nearly choked on my cereal; his expression was inquiring, in a laid-back sort of way, and I had no idea what he wanted me to do.

 _"Don't panic. What would Danny do...?"_

I just shrugged and forced out some sounds that I hoped sounded like a noncommittal mumble. I guess it worked because he slapped me on the back with a laugh and a moment later had placed a mug of milky coffee in front of me.

It was awful, but I drank it to avoid suspicion. I had no idea how Danny can handle this stuff black.

By the time that ordeal was over, it was already 8:23, and it was a race to get Danny's bag and get to school. We're close enough to Casper High that it was a case of follow-the-crowd, right until we got to the front office.

That's when the trouble started. There was a lady behind a desk talking at me, and in a blind panic, I knew it was then or never. I reached out and gave my human's mind a good, solid kick.

"Good morning?" she asked, in a questioning tone, as Danny finally jerked awake. I would have felt bad about how disoriented he was if it hadn't also been hilarious. She smiled patiently as they finally made eye contact. "You're here for your schedule, right? What's your name?"

They chatted about this and that while I finally took a break. Controlling the whole body was _exhausting_. And still, I'd had this weird sense of deja vu the whole time.

I just _knew_ I had controlled some of those muscles before, and I somehow remembered working with Danny to do it. But that didn't even make sense to _me_ because I _was_ Danny, wasn't I? But then, I should have had no problems moving now when I had had no problems in the past, assuming my the memories were accurate.

Which, granted, was a bit of a leap because my memories on my life-before-undeath were murky and confusing and I didn't like it. Rifling through _his_ memories like a burglar wasn't going to cut it. I was going to need to have a heart-to-heart with Danny; maybe after school, we'd compare notes. Once things had calmed down.

'How long was I out this time?' he finally asked, in a distinctly non-calm manner.

 _"Well... We have a 7:30 alarm, it's probably around 8:40 now... I guess about an hour."_

Yeah, the "alarm" was clear, right away. 'We've been over this! _Please_ don't just walk me around the city like this!'

The thanks I get, huh? _"I handled it all fine, don't worry so much. Besides, you slept through an actual shower. If I tried to wake you up when you were that tired I'm pretty sure it'd be considered some kind of abuse."_

He was still uneasy, but Tucker showed up just in time to save me from more silly questions.

With the exception of English, I got some rest myself, and happily by the time lunch rolled around Danny had more or less forgotten about the morning awkwardness. Now we just had to navigate the last half of the day, and we would finally be able to have a good long talk.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _If you find yourself a bit confused, we have just moved from Monday 13 September, back to Wednesday 25 August._

 _For you see, I did say we would pick up on a Wednesday._

 _As you may have guessed, this and the next chapter are filling in some of the gaps where Phantom was doing things Danny does not remember, from very early in their relationship (from Danny's perspective, anyway). So early, in fact, that the next chapter will be going over events originally published a full 5 months ago._ _Wild speculation welcome, of course, although you will have your answers soon enough either way._


	25. Chapters 5 and 6

Sam and Tucker had officially dug their trenches and started what I guessed would be a 20-minute argument over Sam's wheatgrass-and-pecan spinach wrap, and as usual, Danny was having none of it. Although to be fair, he also seemed kind of queasy. Pained, almost.

I wondered what it was about...? He hadn't done _that_ much writing in English, really.

 _"Do you need to get out of here? There should be a bathroom out in the hall on the left."_

'How the heck do you know that already?'

 _"I pay attention. Hey, you should try that sometime!"_

I chuckled as he rolled his eyes at me, before calling out to Sam and Tucker over their arguing. "Guys? Listen, I'm not feeling so hot. I'm just going to step into the bathroom for a minute, OK?" They both gave him sympathetic looks before he dashed for the door like a man possessed.

...or, uh. Like a man in a hurry.

I wondered, though. The more attention he paid to that arm, the more it seemed like the nerves were... Calling out to me, I guess. It was a bit like the weird stiffness I had felt trying to move that arm in the morning, except I wasn't trying to do anything. But oddly enough, it also sort of reminded me of the tingly feeling I got yesterday when I had to hide us from Dash, right before what I'll just call "The Alley Incident". _That_ had been a panic response and I barely thought about it, but now? Now it felt like an old friend was trying to reach out and touch me. Like I was _meant_ to take control of this arm. It was ready for something to happen, and as I realized that, I felt the softest little touch of agreement bead up somewhere in our chest.

I may be a ghost, but _this_ was weird. Nerves aren't friends. Agreement isn't a physical object. I had no idea what these feelings were or what the hell was wrong with my brain, but that's how it all seemed.

The aching stiffness became so much more real when Danny finally reached the bathroom sink and started running the arm under water. He was willing himself to let go of that pressure, and I guess that meant it got heaped on me. If yesterday was any indication, I'd have to go full-on ghost. Hopefully a certain somebody wouldn't freak and pass out again. Pretty much the last thing I wanted was for half of me to be afraid of myself, just _hours_ after we had finally agreed to try to get along.

 _"Can I ask you something?"_

'What if I say no?'

This guy. What a comedian. _"Yeah, laugh it up. Listen, do you trust me?"_

His silence spoke volumes.

 _"OK, fine, that's fair. Here's the thing. I want to try something, but I'm going to need you to relax that arm all the way."_

'Oh, yeah, I can do that. I thought you were going to say something crazy like "hey let's jump off a bridge" or whatever.' He smirked an annoying smirk into the mirror, to make doubly sure I noticed it. I made absolutely no comment until he hopped up onto the counter and let the aching arm fall to his side.

 _"All right, here goes nothing..."_ The pressure mounted, and I could feel his mind relaxing as the pain left him. It was all on me now, but I didn't feel in pain so much as under pressure. I gave it a sharp yank and the pressure built; the arm felt like the careful balance of power and tension in the moment right before an over-inflated party balloon finally explodes.

It all snapped into place in a moment. I raised our hand.

 _"Whoa. This feels weird."_

For a moment all I could do was stare. Partly out of shock, but mostly because I forgot to actually do something with the tendons and all that. I played with the fingers for a moment and gave a little wave. It may seem small, but this was the easiest muscle control had come to me. On the right side of the body anyway. I was probably grinning like an idiot.

'So, was that all you wanted to do, or what?'

Right. _"No, I just wanted to make sure I'd be able to control it before I tried this."_

So, here's the deal. You know in movies where there is a record scratch and time freezes right before things get crazy? This was like that. I just gave the power a good shove, and then our hand was on fire. The nerves were screaming the whole time, but it was like the feeling of cracking your knuckles or popping a kink in your back. A bit of pain, but immediate satisfaction. The pressure disappeared and in that one perfect moment I had about managed to form the flames into a neat little fireball when Danny freaked the crap out. Again.

Now, whereas taking control of the arm and using the fire powers had been quite pleasant, what happened next was a bit like somebody taking a crowbar and cleaving through my head. Our head. Whatever. It _sounded_ like somebody had set off a firecracker right in the middle of our brain and was desperately trying to pull it into two, but it got caught up at the roots, and so they just kept _tugging_... I think it displaced that time when I was six, nearly ran straight into a bolt of lightning, and seriously screwed up my left arm when it got caught in the arcing as "the second worst pain I have ever felt".

To summarize, Danny forcing himself back into control was pretty awful, and what felt like _days_ later when the pain finally cut out, I was annoyed. _"What was that for? I had that under control!"_

'I panicked!' This, I knew. 'You could have warned me that you were going to do crazy ghost stuff! Man, my hand is _burning_.'

1, 2, 3. Calm breaths. The important thing was, it totally worked. _"...that was pretty cool, though, huh?"_

'Are you kidding? I can shoot fireballs! This is freaking awesome! Although we should wear gloves next time, that serious burns...'

That was a relief. I had been pretty worried that Danny was going to totally freak out about this. Especially since from the looks of things, we managed to scorch a wall.

'...are you against gloves?'

 _"What? No, I'm just... You really want to do that again?"_

'Yeah, that wasn't so bad. I mean, the last two times you did anything like that it felt like I got kicked in the gut—' Brother, you have _no idea_. '—but that wasn't so bad!'

I was about to tell him so, too, when Tucker stumbled in on us. "Hey, Danny, are you OK? You didn't actually spew, did you?"

He moved his hand around a bit before breaking out into a smile. "Nah, I'm fine. Actually, you know what? I'm great."

Words probably can't express how glad I was for that.

* * *

When we got back to the lunch room, Sam was highly amused, of course.

"Hey guys, I was starting to get worried you wouldn't be back before the bell. What took so long Danny, you fall in or something?" Danny just went along with the joke. She wasn't asking what was really on her mind, just like he wasn't telling her he'd just shot a fireball and vaporized a poster.

There was concern etched onto her face, all right. But it completely flew over Danny's head, as I've basically come to expect from him. Why did it seem like I was the only one of us that paid attention to those things? It hadn't always been like that, at least not from what I could remember.

It got me thinking back on the story we had read in English class. Besides it being odd to read a clearly Irish story in a class about the English (Note to self: ask Danny about that later), it was so strange to read about two brothers being at odds like that. If only they had explained who they were to each other...

I suppose that was the trouble with communication, though. It required a certain willingness on behalf of both parties. The disastrous conclusion of the story had me reflecting on my own actions. Perhaps I should tell Danny about my doubts; how it seemed that even though I had always been _with_ him, I had never exactly _been_ him. Was it even possible for two different... Beings? People? Consciousnesses? Whatever, to share a single life?

This was all immensely frustrating. Hell if I understood how it worked. I just knew that to avoid a complete disaster I _needed_ to talk to Danny about it. On another level, he just deserved to know, really. Fourteen years was an awful long time for us to have been mutually unaware of each other, and now that we had this opportunity, didn't it make sense to take advantage of it...? It's not every day you meet a person who you can ask anything at all, to get an outsider's perspective, but from somebody who knows you better than anybody...

I felt like I should come out of my shell a little bit and start putting that theory to the test. There's no reason I shouldn't try warming things up with him a bit, even if I was going to wait until we could have _The Talk_ much later. About then I realized Danny was sitting down at a desk and staring at a blank sheet of paper, pencil in his hand. I could tell he was frustrated. Since he clearly wasn't busy, I supposed now would be an OK time for us to talk.

 _"You know champ if you want to beat paper, I'd go with scissors before trying to stare it to death."_

He just rolled his eyes. My comedy was lost on this audience. 'I was going to try the pencil first, but I don't even know where to start with this one. How are you supposed to "draw a straight line that isn't a straight line"? What does that even mean?'

Ah, so we were in art class. Never one of his better subjects. The teacher was sitting behind her desk looking intently over her class, the barest hint of a smile visible as gleaming eyes swept over some of the early results. Danny wasn't the only one struggling, but I doubted he'd get what the assignment was about. Not without some help, anyway. _"Here, let me try something..."_

Before he could object, I grabbed for my hand, since it was sitting unoccupied on the desk. Happily, he remembered to relax his grip on the limb, and I was able to painlessly take it over. I plucked the pencil out of his other hand and set to work. The feeling of skin brushing over the paper was just like every other sensation I had dealt with so far. Familiar and yet so very alien. It sent a chill down my spine; I suspected I would never get used to it. Maybe in our former life, Danny had been the one to interpret such things. Or maybe it was more ghost weirdness. It was hard to say.

'That looks an awful lot like a straight line to me.'

 _"Obviously, that's the assignment."_

'Yeah, but the second part was to not make a straight line. I could have gotten as far as step one myself, thanks.'

I rolled my eyes at that. Well, in a manner of speaking; he was using both of ours. _"It's all a matter of perspective. Now hush, artistic genius at work here."_

A few moments later, I had the basic outline of a small house drawn in two-point perspective. The leading corner of the building seemed to form a straight line with the hip on the roof in the drawing, although the perspective obviously made it appear like it was not one continuous edge. I hoped that was more or less what she had been looking for and quickly doodled in some windows and brickwork.

'Oh, I guess I see what you mean? If she wanted us to draw something in perspective, why didn't she just say so?'

 _"I dunno, maybe she just wanted to screw with you. Hey, how much longer is this class anyway? I kinda want to talk to you about something."_

'It's only 1:40, it's still gonna be a while. She said she wanted to go over some syllabus stuff after we were done this drawing thing.'

Typical. I wanted to make plans to have _The Talk_ after school, and he's too busy to pay attention. But that was the benefit of our relationship now; only one of us had to really be paying attention. _"Alright, well, I wish you the best of luck with that! Grab me in about 40 minutes."_

'Come on, don't bail out-'

I totally bailed out.

* * *

 _"So what are we doing?"_

Danny jumped in his seat, earning a confused stare from Sam, who was sitting on the right-hand side of the lab bench. I suppressed a chuckle. 'Well, I was listening to the basics of cellular structure, but now I think I'm going to go find a priest and ask for an exorcism.'

I ignored that remark. _"Is this biology? Why didn't you try to get my attention between classes?"_

'Yeah, how exactly did you think I was going to do that? Because I don't really know how to work your freaky ghost mind powers.'

Again, his powers too, but apparently we'd be having that conversation later. _"Fine, whatever. But we need to talk after class."_ I could tell he wanted some answers now, but like hell I was going over the whole 'Hello, I'm like another person who has been watching you your whole life' thing in such a public place. Sam saved me from a tedious line of questioning by choosing that moment to butt in. One of her many excellent qualities.

She leaned over in her chair and harshly whispered, "Danny, what is up with you lately?"

He turned his head down and pretended to be taking notes before replying in a low voice. "Nothing's up, what are you talking about?"

Not low enough apparently. The third voice came from the front of the room. "Daniel, is there something you would like to add to my list of organelles?"

Danny's full attention snapped back to the front of the class. "Uh, n- no, Mrs. Soucie. Sorry."

"Very well, then. Now, the cytoskeleton can also contract, deforming the cell. I'll give bonus points to anybody who can tell me something this might imply about its larger role in, say, animal anatomy."

It turns out, that's how muscles work. The cells pull together and make the whole group move more than they could individually. However, I'd only learn that later in the week, because at that point Danny more or less tuned out the rest of the lecture.

It was annoying only understanding speech he was paying attention to since that left the pair of us with little to think about apart from the awkward tension between him and Sam. As fun as that sounded, I opted to tune it out and spent the remainder of the class flipping through some of his memories from earlier in life. We still needed to talk, but I had hoped that maybe something would magically pop up and make the whole mess make sense. As I should have expected, it was a surprisingly uninformative half hour.

I realized we had arrived at the end of class when Danny's adrenaline spiked, in a big way. I checked in and found him at his locker, with the heavy fall of combat boots approaching him through the crowd.

Sam leaned forcefully against the locker next to him, crossing her arms. "OK Danny, spill. What's going on with you? And don't try to tell me it's nothing."

"It is nothing, Sam! I guess I'm just a bit nervous about school and all."

Wrong answer. "Come on, don't even try to brush this off. You've been acting super weird since that portal accident. It's like half the time you aren't even really there, and I keep catching you super deep in thought, frowning or smiling like you're going over these long conversations in your head, even when you're in class or sitting with me and Tucker at lunch."

Man, she was good. This is why I liked Sam. "You should probably tell her about me, you know. You've never kept secrets from Sam and Tucker, why start now?"

Danny sighed. "OK, you've got me. There is something up. But... Can we talk about it before school tomorrow? I'm kind of exhausted right now."

She was still frowning but seemed to accept that deal. "Fine. I'll talk to you tomorrow then." And she left without another word.

 _"...hey, good job champ, you totally didn't get punched in the face. I'm not sure what good you think delaying it is going to do, but—"_

'Hey, cut me some slack! I don't even know what I'm going to tell her! Like, "Hey Sam, so it turns out after I got thrown across the room the other day, there's this ghost that lives in my head and maybe I'm kind of becoming a ghost myself but don't worry! It's probably all fine!"'

 _"Well when you put it that way, yeah, it sounds kinda bad."_ I sighed. I guess I'd have to tell him before he got more keyed up, although I wasn't sure what I was going to tell him any more than he knew what to tell Sam. _"That brings me to something I wanted to talk about, actually."_

'Oh?'

 _"Yeah, I mean, I've been going over some of our memories_ — _"_

'Whoa, you can _do_ that?'

I grinned. _"You're the one who was always saying I was just in your head."_

'Hardy har. Hey, does that mean I have access to yours?'

 _"Probably, if you can figure out how to use our freaky ghost mind powers or whatever."_

'Is that what you wanted to talk about...?'

Oh, right. _"Uh, no. Like I was saying, I've been going over some of our memories, and I've noticed a bit of a pattern."_ Danny spun his lock and slung his backpack over his shoulders. I was _still_ trying to figure out how to put this by the time he was walking out the exit doors. _"...well, there are these events that we both remember, right?"_

'Um... If you only got... "Tangled" with my body or whatever after the accident, how could you remember anything I remember? Are they just how you see my memories, or what?'

 _"Well, yeah, that's the thing. Listen, I can tell that these memories I have aren't your memories, not exactly anyway. We seem to remember events really differently... Not big stuff, but like, subtle differences."_

'...uh huh.'

 _"Look, what I'm trying to say is, I don't think I'm exactly you."_

'Of course not! _I'm_ not dead, and _you're_ a ghost.'

 _"Let me finish, will you? I'm not exactly you,_ _ **but**_ _, I... I think I've always been a part of you? My memories go back as far as yours do. I even get snippets of our childhood that you don't remember yourself. It's like... We've always been together, but until now we didn't really... Notice each other."_ I paused, waiting for his response. It never came. _"...please say something, Danny."_

He had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. I could almost feel all sense of logical thought process grind to a halt over in his half of our mind.

 _"Danny?"_

'That... That can't possibly be true.'

 _"Wait, champ, listen—"_

'Stop calling me that! Stop... Stop messing with my head! Just _get away from me_! I didn't ask for you to sweep into my life like this and just turn everything so _weird_ , and—"

 _"Hey, genius! If you had paid attention, you'd know I can't exactly_ _ **leave**_ _! I've always been here!"_

'I don't believe you, _ghost_. You're just trying to mess with me.'

This kid was infuriating sometimes. That was the other theme I had noticed in our memories. If I was going to crack through his stubborn insistence it was time for drastic actions.

 _"Do you really think so?_ _Recognize this?"_

* * *

I had left Amity Park before, but this Wyoming place was _really_ _cool_. It was just so different! This place had tall trees, and mountains, and all this water, and you could see so many stars! Our parents had taken me and my sister out here for a few days in the summer. I guess it was called camping, even though the RV had most of the same stuff our house had.

Jazz had gotten super tired and cranky and went into the RV to read her books for a while. I didn't like books much. Sometimes I tried to read them and make sense of the little squiggles next to the pictures, but I didn't really know why I did it.

I did like the stars, though. Mom had stayed outside with me and would sometimes point up at the stars and talk about them. I had no idea what she was saying, but sometimes I would make noises back at her that I guess must have been talking as well. I did that a lot, lately, starting from about 2 or 3 years ago. It was weird, but I guess everybody did it?

Even if I had no idea what she was saying, I didn't mind listening to the talking. Her voice was warm and gentle, like the heat from the low camp fire next to us, and when she or I laughed at something the crickets would stop chirping for a moment before picking up again.

I may not have understood some of the things I did, but I was OK with that. Even if this talking thing was a permanent addition to my life. Even if I never did figure it out. I was just happy to be with my family and friends, to feel loved. Their actions spoke so much louder than words.

As long as I had that, I could deal with anything else that came my way.

* * *

'Where did you get that...?' Danny sounded unsteady, again. I almost felt bad for springing one of our earliest memories on him like that, especially when I knew it must have been close to his heart, but... Well, it was close to mine, too. I had hoped it would prove my case, and it might have done, but he sounded so distraught it kind of took the wind out of my sails.

 _"It's like I've been telling you, champ,"_ I said it as gently as I could, _"I've always been here with you. I don't know who I really am, or why we are the way we are, but... I'm just glad we finally get to talk. So, what do you say? Friends?"_

I smiled and held out a mental hand.

He nearly puked, and his brain went into complete panic mode right before it shut down and he fell over.

That hadn't gone quite how I had hoped it would.

Admittedly, I thought to myself as I took over the legs and shakily got us up on our feet, it was a lot to take in. And maybe I could have gone about it a different way. On the other hand, at least he hadn't tried to run away? I mean, we were pretty close to a busy road, and Danny has already proven that he has little trouble running through traffic when he goes all flight-or-fight mode.

At my walking speed it took me 15 minutes to get us home. 3:59 pm. It was funny, almost. I walked us to school, and now I walked us back. Admittedly a blacked-out Danny was a bit more serious than a sleeping Danny, so I figured I'd better just lay us down on the bed instead of trying to do anything else. I was worried about the kid. It was hard not to be, especially when he didn't regain consciousness even _hours_ later.

Eventually, I fell into a restless sleep myself.

* * *

I awoke to screaming. _Our_ screaming. As soon as I came to, Danny was panting heavily and clutching his chest, bolt upright in bed.

 _"Man, that was loud enough to wake the dead! Are you OK champ?"_

He was trying to figure out where he was, near as I could tell. 'It... It was a dream.'

Oh man, was he serious? Did... Could he have seriously blocked out the whole afternoon? On one hand, it would say _awful_ things about his mental health, but on the other... Maybe I could take advantage of a 'Take 2' on the whole revealing-my-secret-identity thing. I just needed to be sure first. _"Another one of those, huh? ...what was it?"_

He finally laid down again, still breathing heavily. 'Dash. I... He burned to death. Disintegrated. And then I got shot by dad.' He _was_ serious. I couldn't even see the barest hint of a lie. He didn't remember a thing.

But that didn't mean he was doing OK. Even if it wasn't _as bad_ as what it could have been, if he's still having these psycho-killer dreams...

 _"Look, have you thought maybe... That maybe, you should talk to somebody about this?"_ I'm pretty sure he was about to tell me what a terrible idea that was, so I headed him off at the pass. _"I don't mean like a shrink, but you clearly aren't handling this well on your own. You could tell Sam, even, since you promised to talk with her tomorrow anyway."_

'I don't want to get my friends worried over nothing, and- Hey... Back up, when did I promise to talk with Sam? What about?'

 _"Right after you got out of biology, remember?"_

'No, I don't remember saying anything like that.' Exactly how much had he forgotten...? 'Wait a second, how did I even get out of the bathroom?'

...seriously? We have one awkward conversation and his brain blocks out _the entire afternoon?_ _"Are you messing with me?"_

'No! The last thing I remember was talking to Tucker after the fireball thing, then... That dream, and then talking to you! What the hell happened?'

 _"Uh... That was a while ago."_

'Yeah, I figured out that much!'

 _"Are you seriously telling me you don't remember anything after that? None of this?"_ I gave him a quick info-dump. Hastily revised to hopefully avoid any more... Incidents. _"And you seriously don't remember any of that? Or anything since?"_

'Can you... I need a moment. Please.' ...Ah, right, he wouldn't remember that we had access to each other's thoughts, would he? I gave him a second. And then another second. And then a few minutes, actually. Finally he stopped fidgeting in bed and turned to quickly check the time; 3:17 am. The next feeling I caught from him was anger.

'No, I can't remember any of that. Or anything else in the last 15 hours.' This was a massive relief. 'But I'd like to change that now, so how about you finish that conversation you started outside my locker?'

 _Crap._ Maybe those revisions had been _too_ hasty. _"Oh, you uh... Saw that."_

'Was I not supposed to? Why is that, I wonder?'

I had literally no idea what to tell him. He was going to want answers that I didn't want to give a second time. I really, really didn't. I guess I was spinning in place too long because he got tired of waiting. 'Well?'

 _"Look, I know what you're thinking. I had nothing to do with you losing your memory. I didn't mean to, anyway."_

'And?'

 _"And, the conversation was... It's probably for the best you don't remember how it went the first time around. I'll tell you, just... Don't take it too badly this time, alright champ?"_

'I'm not making any promises until you just tell me what the hell is going on.'

 _"It's about who I am."_

'Is... Is that it? What could be so bad about that?'

Oh, if only you knew.

I had a choice. I could tell him the truth I knew he'd probably never accept. That we'd always been together. That we were once equal partners. That I would always be there for him as he'd always been there for me. He would probably panic again, and maybe he'd hate me, and he would never want anything to do with me.

Or, I could lie.

Neither was an attractive option. But... I can't lose him.

 _"Because, I'm the ghost of Daniel Fenton."_

Half a ghost. Half a human. Half the truth.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _I cheated. Part of the contents of this chapter was actually in Chapter 4, not Chapter 5 nor Chapter 6. But I felt that what was once an ending would work better as a beginning, in the least metaphorical sense possible._

 _This... May require a second editing pass. It is currently quite late where I am, so if the phrasing seems a bit off at any point, blame sleepy Workparty and her terrible grammar._


	26. Chapter 20

_"I thought I was doing the right thing. I was going to tell you the whole truth, eventually, I just didn't know... You know. When."_

'And I'm supposed to believe that?'

 _"Yes! It's the whole truth this time. Can you not see why I didn't want to tell you sooner? You blacked out for half a day, champ."_

'Stop calling me that! You've been keeping things from me since Day 1, and now I'm supposed to believe that I've been carrying you around my whole damn life without noticing? What kind of moron do you think I am?'

He was distracted from any answer he might have received when somebody began shaking him by the shoulders with a shout of "Danny!"

"What?!" he snapped, before meeting the panicked eyes of his mother.

She immediately looked relieved, but the bite in his voice also caused her to let go of him. "I- Sorry. You didn't say anything, I just... Do you understand what we're telling you?"

"No, _somebody_ was distracting me."

"What... did he tell you? Did he know the whole time?"

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to quell the pounding in his skull. "It doesn't matter, I've had it with Phantom, and his lies, and—" Bright green eyes opened to blue mist, still floating in the air in front of him. "And I have _especially_ had it with **ghosts**!"

He hopped off the table and took to the air, stopping just short of the Ops Center ceiling. "I'll be back once this is over, don't wait up." He didn't even turn back before he was gone.

Which was just so like him. He probably hadn't even noticed he'd left me sitting here like an idiot for more fun conversations with our parents, both of whom were looking at me like I was a dead man walking. Considering what a cheery mood he was in he probably wouldn't notice until he got back, either.

None of us said anything for a while. Eventually, I thought I should probably answer mom's question. Too many of those had been left hanging tonight. "About two weeks ago I realized."

Mom looked up at me. She had taken up a position leaning against a desk, arms tightly crossed with a frown. It's what she did when she was deep in thought, or right before she reanimated dinner. This was a case of the former.

She didn't say a thing, so I just kept going. The ball was in my court. "We had different memories. That's what tipped me off. I tried to tell him before tonight, too, but he just blacked out. I didn't... I wasn't sure what to do, after that."

She sighed. "Of course. The two halves always ignore each other, I guess it would try to preserve the illusion."

That had me confused. "What do you mean, 'always'? I mean, we aren't exactly... Normal, are we?"

"Not as normal as some, sure." I turned right to face Dad, who had sat down next to me. Without me noticing, somehow. "But Danno, everybody is built the same, more or less. Maybe you're about the only two who ever get to _meet_ each other, but the principle is the same."

"...why do I feel like I'm missing something?"

"Jack, of course, he wouldn't know either!" Mom practically shouted it. She looked stunned by some kind of realization, and pretty soon she was on me, eyes boring into mine, hands gripping my shoulders. "Danny, sweetie, it's important that you believe me. This is going to sound a bit unbelievable."

Mom was right. It did sound unbelievable. And maybe just a little bit terrifying.

"...so what can we do?"

"Well, we're going to need both of you in..." Another vague, sweeping hand gesture. "You, before we can even think about surgical options."

"Whoa, _brain surgery_? Is that really necessary?"

"Yes! Without some way to stop the spread, the problem will just get worse and worse!" There was a fire in her eyes that I hadn't seen since she was looking at me on the other side of a gun. I won't lie, it had me wanting to run.

"Is... Will it be safe?"

She backed off again, suddenly avoiding my eyes. I hadn't thought that could have been worse. "If we do, there is still a chance of complications. At least a 95% chance of complete success. There is a chance, just a _slight_ chance, that... Well, that you would effectively disappear."

Not what I had wanted to hear, but I suppose it made sense. "...and if you don't operate?"

"You will most likely survive. But Danny..."

It was just as well she didn't finish the sentence. I got the message. Dad's hand moved from my shoulder to rubbing my upper back, the same nervous tic he had during Danny's doctor appointments and parent-teacher meetings. "Back in college, we had a friend who went through the same injury. He hid it from us a lot longer than you, Danno. By the time we caught on, it was in the late stages. Ol' V-Man went out one day to try to get his other half to listen to reason, and, well." The hand returned to his lap. "We never did see him again. Him or his ghost."

"...I don't want that to happen to Danny, either." And damn it, I meant it. "What do you need me to do?"

Mom finally looked me in the eye, fearful where I hoped I looked determined. "You're going to need to talk him down. If nothing else, just bring him home."

That, I could do. I took the stairs two at a time.

* * *

This was nice. Far away from his problems, high above the city, nobody trying to manipulate him... That was probably Danny's favorite part about ghost hunting. It wasn't like school or friends or family. There was a problem. The problem was solved when the ghost was dead.

Danny soared gracefully over the elm canopies of the streets before they dropped away revealing the river below him. The water twinkled by, lit dark orange with a thousand reflected lamps, and Elmerton picked up where the shoreline dropped off. He had no idea where exactly his ghost sense was leading him, but the target must have been moving.

Screams from the ground caught his attention, and he dived, the wind whipping at his hair and whistling in his ears. It had to be around here somewhere.

A group of teenagers ran out of a nearby alleyway, scattering across the roadway with no particular direction in mind. Danny smiled. That must be it. He landed softly on the pavement; stealth was hard when you glowed in the dark, but there was no sense giving the enemy any advantages.

Danny peeked carefully around the corner, and he could see why the teens had run. The ghost was _massive_ , easily twice as tall as he was. It looked like some kind of dog, complete with a spiked collar and a flaming tail.

That wasn't too much of a problem. He'd faced bigger, and most of them saw him as soon as he saw them. This ghost was concentrating on the ground, sniffing here and there, seemingly looking for something (most likely, looking for people to terrorize). He just needed to make sure the first shot counted.

Three weeks had passed since the accident. Three weeks of dealing with Phantom and all the other ghosts invading his life, his town, and he was getting pretty tired of it.

No, not tired.

Angry.

He put all that anger into an ectoblast and fired. The dog yipped and turned on him in a moment, and in a second Danny found himself face-to-face with a pair of deep red eyes and fangs the size of his head. It hadn't done quite as much damage as he had hoped it would; to say the least, it was a bit frightening exactly how _little_ it had been affected. "Uh... Nice doggy?"

It grabbed him in its teeth, tore down the street with him screaming, and flung him clean through a plate-glass window. Lacking the time to go intangible, it shattered into dozens of shards, which rained down on him as he crashed into a pile of tables and chairs.

"OK, not so nice doggy."

He stood on shaky legs, vision swimming, but clear enough to see the dog was about to charge in after him. His first instinct was to grab anything at hand and throw it at the dog, but one salt shaker and a coffee cup later the dog had barreled into him and slammed him into the front counter of what seemed to be a cafe.

Danny phased out from under the dog and flew up behind it. It was only about as tall as he was now. "Not so nice, size-changing doggy? Terrific, he can get into anything." A paw swiped inches from his face and he flew back with a yelp. "OK, let's get Rover away from people..."

Turning intangible to avoid a further assault of paws, Danny flew back through the window, before a splitting pain in his head made him lose his concentration; he tumbled onto the street.

His quarry was apparently more than willing to seize an opportunity, because with a crash it broke through the _other_ window, showering Danny with glass just as he was getting back onto his feet. A quick leap to the side got him out of the way of the charge, and the ghost dog ran straight into a lamppost, dislodging it from its moorings and toppling it into the building behind it, where the bulb exploded into a flurry of sparks.

The dog scrambled for a moment, trying to get its bearings, while Danny did the same a few feet away. The cuts from the glass were doing wonders to distract him from the pain in his head, but not so much for his concentration. It took a few seconds to build up another ectoplasmic charge, sending it at the ghost hurtling toward him. It collapsed into a heap, but in a moment it was already staggering to its feet.

He didn't wait for it to recover. "Hey Fido, let's go for a walk!" Danny ran down the street, kicking the monstrous ghost back down on his way past. Sooner than he had been hoping for it was chasing him again; they were still in a fairly dense neighborhood, though if he had seen correctly from the air, they were close to the sparsely populated industrial park, on the other side of the train tracks. He was trying to recall if it was three blocks south or east when he found himself tackled to the ground in the middle of the intersection. The dog bit down hard on his midsection, and after giving him a short shake, threw him clear across the road and face-first into a parked SUV, leaving a sizable dent and pushing it up onto the curb in the process.

When he finally picked himself up, angry, red eyes met his own, and their owner roared at him like a creature twice its size despite its heavy panting. Danny's ears were left ringing, and he wasn't entirely sure if the warm liquid he was feeling on his lip was from a bloody nose or dog drool.

The monster was about to bite his head off, literally, but Danny blocked its mouth with his arms. A particularly hard bite elicited another scream of pain, and he reflexively sent an ectoblast right at the dog's chest. With the weight off of him, he scrambled back and onto his feet. "No, bad dog! The ghost kid is _not a chew toy_!" Adrenaline coursing through his system, Danny turned and picked up the SUV behind him with a grunt of effort, and threw it straight at his target. The dog tried to move away, but not quickly enough; the vehicle landed with a heavy crunch right on its mark.

Exhausted and annoyed, Danny cautiously shuffled over to the car, ectoblast primed and ready to fire. Ectoplasm was oozing out from under the steel, but he didn't think for a second he had seen the last of the monster. Finally, it dragged itself intangibly out from under the vehicle, now reduced the size of a normal mastiff, its forepaws trying to gain purchase on the slick asphalt. Strangely, it made no attempt to attack him.

Its head perked up suddenly a second later, sniffing the air curiously. Danny stayed his arm for a moment, examining it with confusion, but the dog had apparently decided whatever it had found was more important than him because it barked and tore off limping down the intersecting street.

Dumb ghosts. Whatever, it just made his job easier. He took off after it, and after a moment felt well enough to try flight; Danny finally overtook it just as it had crossed the train tracks, and landed a flying kick to its head just short of a security fence surrounding a brightly lit factory, the cyan standing in stark contrast to the orange night sky.

The dog fell whimpering. It didn't try to get back up, but just looked up at him in wide-eyed terror. Danny landed next to it with glee. "Finally! You didn't make this easy." He prepared for one a final attack, but a bright spotlight hit him straight in the face and he had to use his hand to shield his eyes from the glare.

An alarm began to sound and he could see a couple of security guards looking at him from their rooftop vantage points. "Hold up guys! I'm on your side, I'm just here to take care of your ghost problem." He wasn't sure if they heard him shouting over the klaxon, so he gave them a broad grin and a thumbs up.

Now there was only one problem left.

And it was a problem he knew how to solve.

Green fire licked off his fingertips.

* * *

We weren't far, now. I pulled Sam and Tucker away from _The Sixth Sense_ with barely a word spoken, and an irritated Jazz had been dragged away from her numerical analysis homework to give us a lift. It turns out when she had the right motivation, she really drove like our parent's daughter.

"I think we're getting warmer. He's probably south of here."

"...which way is that?"

I sighed. "Turn right. Am I seriously the only one in our family who can navigate?"

"Sorry little brother, I've got a lot on my mind right now." She scowled at me before looking back at the road just in time to swerve around a pile of broken glass and a toppled street light. "I think we're getting close."

She was right, he was nearby. I could feel where he was, somewhere in the back of our mind. There was that tugging force between us, trying to pull his ghostly form back into our body, but this time it seemed my other half was putting in the effort to keep separated.

Danny was probably just blowing off some steam, right? Mom and Dad had warned me that he would probably react badly to being told he was one-half of the whole, being the more dominant personality. I tried not to take that too personally. After all, it meant that he probably didn't actually... **hate** me. Didn't it?

On the other hand, from the destruction the fighting had left in its wake, it looked like he was willing to go through a lot of trouble just to distract himself. Hopefully he would be willing to listen to Jazz, Sam, and Tucker, if not me. Hopefully we could get him to come home.

...hopefully, he wouldn't do anything we'd all regret.

Jazz had barely made the corner before Sam shouted from the backseat. "There he is! Look, the searchlights!" Her finger shot past my ear to point out a speck in the middle of a spotlight.

"Wait, isn't that Axion Labs?" Trust Tucker to know. "What the heck is Danny doing out here?"

I thought I could see a bright green flash, and a moment later Danny dropped to his knees "Ghost fighting, I hope. Come on, we've got to get him out of here before the police show up or something."

The car screeched to a stop just a few yards away from him, but he didn't even turn to look at us. I was the first out of the car and at his side in seconds.

There was a small body on the ground. Its glow was faint. Danny... He reached out for it, and it dissolved under his touch. We both just watched as the ectoplasm fizzled as it oozed through the pebbles on the side of the road and into the grass, the glowing lost among the blades and the harsh blue lights.

"Danny, what happened?" He looked like he'd been through hell and back. His suit was covered in scratches and scuffs, and he still hadn't looked at me. "Hey! Are you OK?"

I grabbed him by the shoulder, and I honestly think that was the first time he noticed I was next to him. He looked pretty... Out of it. "It was just a puppy. The whole time."

"Hey, come on champ, we saw the damage on the way here. You were just doing what you thought was right."

"What the _hell_ would you know about 'right'?"

"Danny, look, I don't know how to tell you this, but..."

He glared at me; he was moving from distant back to annoyed, so there was no time to hesitate. I'd have to just start talking and hope I knew what to say when I got there. Since, you know, that worked out so well last time. "I'm your right brain."

That got his attention. "...what?"

"Look, I can't explain this as well as mom and dad can, but... The two halves of our brain are supposed to operate in sync. That accident, kinda threw a wrench into the works. Besides everything else, we got disconnected, somehow." I chuckled a bit and sat down next to him. For his part other-Danny was just staring at me with wide green eyes. "So here we are. Half our brain has gone ghost, and even when you're walking around on your own like that, you're actually cooped up in here with me." I tapped the left side of our head for emphasis. I wonder if he felt that...?

"You... Aren't joking, are you?"

"'Fraid not champ. But listen, it's not the end of the world. I mean, nothing has changed that much, has it?" I'll admit it, that was a stab in the dark. I was _really_ hoping he'd just go with it, and maybe it could be true. "We're just going to have to take care of—"

Distant sirens started intruding on the facility's alarm, still blaring in the background. "Listen, we can figure it all out when we get home. Come on."

I thought I heard a mumbled "OK", and that was it. Thankfully, in ghost-mode, it was easy enough pull him up, but Sam's help was necessary to get him into the car. I think we made it two blocks before he passed out from exhaustion.

* * *

"You only did what you had to do. It was a ghost, and nothing good ever comes from ghosts."

Danny turned to glare at the figure, but predictably, its smoky form moved as quickly as he did, remaining just in the corner of his vision. "Shut up. It was just a puppy."

"Oh, really? So it had a pulse? A life of its own? A family to go home to? No, it was a ghost, plain and simple. Maybe the Other One is polluting your mind, confusing your perceptions. Tell me, do you even still think you are human?"

"Of course I am! Stop talking to me!" He turned away from it now, not that it had any more effect.

The figure just snickered at his futile attempt. The faintest sliver of a silver smile cracked the shadowy face. "How would you even know? Danny?"

He shut his eyes and sat down on the cold stone floor of... Wherever this was. "Stop it!"

"Danny!"

Somebody was shaking him gently. When he opened his eyes, he saw confused, concerned blue eyes looking back at him. The room was dark aside from the streetlights coming through the window, but it was clearly his bedroom. "Phantom?"

He saw himself relax. "Yeah. Sorry to wake you up, it felt like you were having a nightmare."

Danny sat up as Phantom backed away, taking a seat on the far edge of the bed. "I guess I must have been. Thanks."

"No problem." Phantom seemed more interested in picking at the threads of the duvet than looking at him. Danny felt like he should say something, but he wasn't even sure where to start.

After a moment, he decided to just start talking and hope he knew where to go when he got there. "Listen, about earlier..."

"It's fine, champ. Dad said he and mom kind of thought something like this might happen."

"...how could they possibly have seen any of this coming?"

Phantom finally turned to him with a small smile. "I guess the same thing happened to a friend of theirs back in college. He actually hid it from them much better, so I guess what we did wasn't so bad."

"I don't know, I'm... That ghost I killed. It was just a puppy acting out, in the end."

"Try not to think about it too much. You only did what you had to do."

That made Danny shudder, for some reason. "No. No, I didn't. There are a _million_ ways that could have gone better if I hadn't been so... Blind. If we're going to keep doing this, I want to find a way to just _catch_ ghosts so we can deal with them peacefully."

Phantom gave a noncommittal hum of agreement. "I guess we can talk to our parents about that in the morning."

"...what time is it even?"

"11:59, or... Make that 12:00. I guess that makes this another midnight chat, huh?"

"I guess so." Danny shifted a bit so he was sitting up against the headboard. After a moment, he found what he had meant to ask from the start. "I can't really remember it, very clearly. What were mom and dad trying to tell me before I..."

The other teen filled in the gap. "Flipped out?" The tone was playful, but that really was about the best way to describe it.

"...Yeah."

"I... Don't really know how to explain it. They said something about a _corpo_ -something in the brain going all freaky from the ghost energy, and uh... Screw it, I'll let mom explain."

The room shimmered and fizzled, and Danny felt like he was falling. The only way he knew that he hadn't really moved at all was the fact that Phantom stayed static in his field of vision. When the fog lifted and he had "landed", they were back in the ops center. Phantom walked wordlessly over to the scanner and hopped back onto the table, and soon after their mom and dad appeared out of thin air.

"The human brain is an incredibly complex organ, just like the human body is an incredibly complex system." Mom was in scientist-mode, pacing in front of the ghost teen. She couldn't see him watching them, although... If this was Phantom's memory, that would make sense. When this happened, he had already flown off minutes ago. "Advanced lifeforms such as ourselves follow a bilateral symmetry, with organs like the kidneys and lungs operating in tandem to keep the body running. That includes the brain."

She stopped pacing in front of the monitor hooked up to the scanner, spinning it around to reveal the results. "Two hemispheres, left and right, collectively control the body. Unlike the lungs or kidneys, the nervous system is far too complex for each to operate completely independently, so they communicate over a layer called the corpus callosum, this slightly dark part between the two. Technically they are still independent minds, but as long as the two sides communicate and keep in perfect sync, they'll never be aware of the existence of the other."

"So... What does this have to do with us?" Phantom asked, finally.

"Well, if we overlay the ectoplasmic scan on this one..." She hit a few keys and the image changed slightly; now the right side was glowing brightly, but it got rapidly darker toward the left. Danny saw Phantom shifting to get a better view. "The accident left quite a mark. If you look carefully, you can see there was damage to that junction, the corpus callosum, and it appears the right hemisphere was... Technically, 'killed', but the portal seems to have infused it with enough ghostly energy to keep it going."

She tapped the side of the scan glowing brightest. "And that would be the 'you' in this picture."

"...so wait, what's up with all the green spots on the other side? Or, in Danny's brain? His side of our brain, that is." Man, did Phantom ever ramble. "Or whatever."

" _That's_ the problem. The ectoplasmic right brain is trying to repair the damage. From the growth rates, it looks like about two weeks ago it healed the damage to the junction point, and from there..." The room went black, and the voices faded.

"I guess the ghostly tissue kind of started invading your brain. It sees the living tissue as 'damage', so... Uh, sorry about that, by the way," Phantom added awkwardly. "They... Want to try surgery to fix it tomorrow."

Danny was too stunned to talk. It was several minutes before he had collected himself enough to open his eyes, let alone say anything, and by then Phantom had gone back to nervously picking at a loose thread on the sheets. Tomorrow's problems could be fixed tomorrow. Right now, it was time for a long overdue conversation.

"...so you've really been with me the whole time?"

The ghostly teen just frowned at him. "I tell you we're getting brain surgery, and you're still hung up on that part?"

"No, no, I..." He chuckled, and the other's frown deepened. "Sorry, if I've been ignoring you. Can we start over?" He took off his right glove and held out a glowing hand with a lopsided grin. "Danny Fenton."

After just a moment's hesitation, the smile was returned, and Phantom clasped his hand. "Hey, me too."

That, Danny decided, was the perfect place to start.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _Here is the partially rewritten Chapter 20, to replace the somewhat lackluster original. Just in time for the 3 April "Dannyversary", too. A thousand thanks to TheFullCatastrophe and BuzzyBumbleBee13 for their patience in picking apart the revised drafts, and to Invader Johnny for early feedback. From thanks to apologies, sorry to MsMcClue, who I think had a slight panic when I took the chapter down before the rewrite was ready to go live._

 _More generally, thanks are in order to all the readers and reviewers of Disconnected. You all make me want to be a better writer, and I appreciate that deeply._

 _And seriously. Go hug your pets._


	27. Chapter 21

Danny, Sam, and Tucker sat at their usual table in the cafeteria. The conversation had been light, but considering the day they were still recovering from, "light" was good. It wasn't forced joviality, either. Danny had told both of his friends what he was up against, but he wasn't afraid, and the other two were eager to support him.

Reflecting on it though, there was a fair amount to worry about, wasn't there? Furrowing his brows, he tried to recall the details his parents had told him that morning.

"Why sweat the small stuff? Like you were saying earlier, it'll be fine." Tucker grinned easily, leaning back in his seat.

Taken aback, Danny asked, "How did you guess what I was thinking about?"

"It's not Tucker's fault you're so predictable!" Sam laughed from his side, before leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Whoa, uh, Sam, what was that for?"

Sam just laughed again as he spun around to face her. She leaned an arm against the back of her chair and just gave him a jokingly condescending look. "Come on, Danny. We both know we have crushes on each other, don't we?"

"No, we don't. I mean, know that. Or have one. Where are you getting these ideas?" Danny frowned. Something was wrong here. "And when did they install chairs in the cafeteria? Didn't it have benches yesterday?"

He got up from the bench he was sitting on and took a frantic look around, "And come to think of it, where the heck is everybody else? We're never the only ones in the lunch room! And—" Oh. Of course.

With a sigh, he sat back down. "Phantom. You can come out now."

"...I'm not here."

"Phantom, if this isn't a dream, why did you just say that out loud?"

 _"No I didn't, I said 'I'm not here'."_

Danny politely disagreed, and decided the specter was across the table from him, next to where Tucker had been sitting. Phantom's frown was evident even through the bed-sheet.

"So you can mess around with my dreams now, huh? That's a new one."

"Eh, not really. You can do it too, once you know it's a dream. I just wanted to beat the traditional daily nightmares to the punch, and, you know. Try some positivity for a change."

"...Why did you pick the cafeteria, then?"

"I don't know, where else would you and your friends be? I mean, the living room does have comfier seats..." The ghost hopped up on the sofa, kicking his feet up on the armrest. "But I always figure this room is better for more serious conversations. Real life stuff, y'know?"

Danny chuckled, taking his seat across the coffee table from the specter. "I dunno about real life stuff, last time I was here in a dream I'm pretty sure it was supposed to be Christmas in September."

"Real is relative," Phantom said with a shrug.

Neither of them said much for a moment; peaceful silence was preferable to most of the alternatives. Danny eventually checked the wall clock, but it didn't have the correct number of numerals or hands. "Do you know what time it is up there?"

"It was about 6:45 when I got here." The ghost shifted to face him, the empty black eyes turning on him questioningly. "Are you ready for today?"

An exasperated expression and a raised eyebrow preceded the response. "Yeah, how could I not be? I recently found out that I've been sharing a skull with somebody for fourteen years and now my parents are going to try to remove a whole bunch of ghost-stuff from the half of my brain that is _actually_ mine. I don't even know how that's going to _happen_."

Phantom just _hmm_ ed and turned back to looking at the ceiling.

"Wait, do you not know what they're planning to do either?"

"Well no, but I assume they know what they're doing."

" _Why_ would you assume that?" Danny was shortly on his feet and standing above the other. "I assumed you knew what they were planning since you were so freaking _calm_ about it!"

Phantom looked puzzled as he sat up to face his other half the right way around. "I mean, they are the leading experts in ghost hunting."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make them _brain surgeons_."

"Do you not trust them?"

"...do you want the truth or one of those little white lies that doesn't hurt anybody's feelings?"

"Yeah, sarcasm. That's super helpful." With a huff, he added, "If you're panicking this much why are you asking _me?_ I mean, honestly, I know as much as you do."

Danny glared back. "Well, maybe I will!" He took a few steps away from the ghost before stopping in the middle of the dreamed living room, looking around. He felt eyes being rolled at his back.

"Try the door."

"...thank you."

"Any time, champ."

Danny paused by the front door, one hand on the doorknob, the other at his side. With a sigh, he turned back to face the ghost, still relaxing on the sofa. "Sorry I snapped at you. This is just... Stressful." He smiled at Phantom, who as far as he could tell returned the smile in kind. "Once this is all over with, I'm actually looking forward to getting to know you better. It's kind of new to me, having somebody to be completely honest with. If we're going to seriously do this 'superhero' thing, it'll be nice not having to face it alone, you know?"

"...Yeah."

With a parting wave, Danny swung the door open and stepped through into the blank void beyond. If he noticed Phantom's conflicted expression, he gave no sign of it.

* * *

Upon waking, Danny had resolved to ask his parents about ghost _containment_ rather than extermination. The last ghost he had seen them capture alive, besides himself, they had simply knocked out and tied up; on the other hand, they did have the ghost-proof containment tank in the lab. There had to be _some_ way to apply that technology in the field.

He made it about halfway down the stairs to the lab before his dad nearly ran into him on the landing.

"Danny-boy! Good to see you! Want to go for a drive?"

"Uh, actually dad, I wanted to ask you a question..."

"We can do both at once sport! Let's go."

With a resigned sigh, Danny let himself be lead straight back up into the kitchen and out the back door. They made their way to the heavily dented RV, still showing the battle scars his parents had been too busy to fix. "So, I was wondering, you know that ghost-tank you have down in the lab?"

"Sure, what about it Dann-o?"

"Well, I'm wondering if it'd be possible to invent some kind of portable version." Danny scrambled into the passenger seat and buckled up as fast as possible. Jack lost no time, throwing the vehicle into gear and tearing off down the alleyway, using a handbrake turn to slide deftly onto the street. "You know, to trap ghosts in the field."

"Oh, sure, I've made tons of them! With help from your mother, of course." The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully, almost missing his intended exit onto the bridge with a squeal of tires. "The Fenton Ghost Weasel is the most fool-proof, though we never did get the weight problem resolved. We tried more light-weight field generators in the Fenton Xtractor, although that one has a bad habit of catching on fire."

"Um, maybe not that one then. I'm thinking something I could carry when I'm. You know." Danny paused briefly to shrink in his seat as the RV shot past a city repair crew parked next to a suspiciously familiar street lamp. "Fighting ghosts."

"The Fenton Grappler is a good one, that's how we caught that one ghost that was terrorizing your school. It's nowhere near as cool though," he added with noticeable distaste. "It's basically just a net gun."

"...a net gun with the word 'Fenton' on it?" Danny asked, half joking.

His father shook his head, this time completely missing a turn, necessitating a swift u-turn through a break in the median. "Never got a chance. We had to scrap the laser engraver for parts to fix the Fenton Thermos."

"What's that one do?"

"It was _supposed_ to capture ghosts, but we can't get the darn thing to work. We're running into the same cooling problem we had with the Xtractor. Still, at least it keeps soup hot indefinitely."

 _"Hey, you should ask if you might be able to fix that. They were having cooling issues with the Specter Speeder too."_

"Is that a..." Danny looked around and frowned. This street was... Familiar. "Wait, Dad, where did you say we were going?"

"I'm calling in a favor with an old poker buddy Phil Morris. He's working on some nanobots over at Axion Labs—"

Whatever the rest of the explanation was, Danny didn't hear it. As the building came into view, the world faded into so much white noise. There was just the bright blue lights beaming down on him, shining out of the darkness, so many bright lights and judging eyes. Eyes watching him, disgusted looks on their faces, because they knew what he had done. He leaned over to look at the blood pooling in the gutters when he thought he saw a glint of red; ruby-red eyes set into a twisted smoky face, cackling. Always there, always watching, and he had to escape. Bright dark red eyes shining down always watching never moving—

He was about to run for it when he felt a hand grasp his shoulder.

"Danny? Are you OK son?" Jack was looking at him with a concerned expression. Danny realized he was still in the RV. That... _that_ , was in the past now.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm fine. I spaced out a bit there, heh."

"Oh. Well, we're here."

Danny's hand hesitated over the door handle for a moment, before pulling back. "Actually, why don't I just stay here? You know, so I can watch the GAV."

His dad gave him a small smile. "All right kiddo. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He returned the smile, but as soon as his dad left, Danny made every effort to look straight ahead.

* * *

"Hi, sweetie! I made pancakes! They're just... A bit irritable right now, but the coffee should be fine." His mom smiled brightly at him from near the stove. She was leaning with one arm on a heavy cooking pot placed upside-down on the counter while preparing toast in the other. Faint growling could be heard through the brushed stainless steel, and occasionally it would jostle slightly until Maddie shifted her weight to keep the contents from escaping.

Danny poured himself a cup of coffee. It was the dark roast normally reserved for guests and special occasions. The smell alone sent tingles up his spine. "How'd you know I drank coffee, anyway...?"

Maddie chuckled and adjusted her hold on the pot until she could turn to face him directly. "Really now Danny. Mothers always know," she said with a smile, before turning back to applying marmalade and cinnamon to bread. "But you wanted to ask me something, right?"

"How did you know I wanted to- Uh, right. Um. About this brain surgery thing.

"Hmm?" The scratching of a knife paused. "Yes, dear?"

"Well, I'm just wondering, I guess, what exactly you are going to... Do." The sounds of food preparation continued unabated as he paused. Clearly, Maddie thought he had yet to ask the question. "It's just like, I've just never heard of you or dad doing, you know, medical stuff? And uh..."

 _"You're rambling."_

Danny frowned. "Are you sure you should cut into my brain?"

"Oh, that!" She chuckled as if it had been an afterthought. "I wouldn't worry too much about that."

Maddie extended an arm, quickly setting the plate down in front of him. Danny idly started eating, without looking away from her. "Your father and I have done a lot of lab work, as you know, although you are correct in that we've never really moved past dissection..." With a deft movement, she reached under the pot and withdrew a snarling creature, glowing bright green and smelling vaguely of flour and maple syrup.

"So, we're taking precautions." Pinning down the pancake monster with one hand, she grabbed a knife off the counter with the other; it gleamed with a greenish tinge under the fluorescent lights. Without pause, she drove it straight down through her hand, the ghost, and the counter, right to the hilt; at a screeching sound, Danny nearly choked on the liberal dusting of cinnamon. His mother broke into a toothy grin at his reaction before pulling her hand out, revealing no damage; the pancake, however, was rendered thoroughly inanimate, the faint smell of ectoplasm mingling with the scents of breakfast.

"Advanced ecto-alloy blades. They only affect ghostly tissue. With our scanning equipment, we can target the malignant growths, and the healthy, human component won't be affected. Then, we'll inject prototype nanobots to build an ectoranium microlattice to prevent any further growths from developing on your side of the brain."

"Wait, you're injecting the nanobots into _me_?"

"Well yes, but it's perfectly safe! It's a well-tested technology. Not in medicine, but... I can find some charts if you'd like—"

In all the fuss, she never did return to holding down the cooking pot. The pancakes could apparently sense she was distracted, and with one strong push their impromptu cage shot off the counter, landing with a clang. The ectoplasmic quickbread quickly took flight, and Danny nearly choked on his coffee as one of them shot straight at his face with its fangs bared.

Once she had regained her balance, Maddie ran into a combat roll to take her to the other side of the kitchen, where apparently yet another plasma gun was stashed under the stack of takeout menus. Taking cover behind a cabinet door, she started taking shots at the ghastly flapjacks as Danny instinctively phased back through the chair, hitting the floor before he could brace himself. Once he gathered his wits, a few ectoblasts took care of the stragglers his mom had missed.

He groaned and let his arms fall slack to the floor, resting his head on the cool linoleum for a moment. 'Yeah Danny, why don't you trust our parents? Sure they can handle brain surgery. What could go wrong?!'

 _"...I sound nothing like that."_

'You sound _exactly_ like that.'

In a moment his mother was standing over him, moving the chair to the side and offering him a hand up. "Good work honey!" she smiled at him, pulling him to his feet before dusting off his shirt. "What was your kill count?"

"Uh. Five, I think."

"Good! I got eleven, so that should be all of them." Once he was seated again, she returned to the toaster, inserting more bread.

 _"You have to admit there's a big difference between cooking and brain surgery."_

'Yeah, neither of which I've seen either of my parents succeed at! How can any of this be safe?"

 _"Come on champ, at least they definitely know what they're doing, right? It's not as bad as you thought it was! You're going to get out of this just fine."_

' _We're_ going to get out of this just fine, you mean.'

 _"..."_

'I'm really not liking that hesitation.'

 _"It's nothing to worry about, really."_

'Do I have to ask mom? Because I think she'd rather enjoy her coffee.'

 _"...Ok, look, maybe I haven't been completely up front about the risks..."_

* * *

Tucker ran a hand over his face as Danny finished relaying the morning's events. "Phantom, when are you going to learn to just tell him everything at the start...? At best you only ever _delay_ Danny getting moody— Ow!" His hand moved to rubbing his arm, which Danny's left arm had just punched. Tucker looked at his friend accusingly. "Come on, which one of you just hit me?!"

Danny just chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets. "That's our little secret."

"Alright, fine." His friend leaned back against the park bench, arms crossed, squinting into the morning sun. "So... Are you worried?"

"...Yeah. I guess. I'd be crazy not to be. But 95% is a pretty good number, all things considered. To be honest I'm more worried about Phantom."

 _"I'm flattered, but seriously, she said there was like no chance of me... I dunno, 'disappearing'. That's not even as bad as dying, right?"_

'Did mom say what the actual odds were of that happening?'

 _"...well, no. She didn't give an actual... Percentage. But I trust mom and dad."_

Danny frowned. A moment passed in which nobody spoke; partly because Tucker seemed a bit unsure whether or not Danny and Phantom were still talking.

Sam, however, had no such qualms, walking up behind them.

"Hey dorks, what's up?"

Danny whipped around, looking at her smiling face with surprise. "Sam? You skipped too?"

"Hey, I couldn't let you and Tucker have all the fun. But unlike this kid," she pointed at Tucker, "I actually had to be there for a quiz in first period, before busting out the 'girl problems' line. Mr. Mull didn't even ask questions."

Tucker placed a hand over his heart, looking aghast. "Sam, I can't believe you'd imply I don't take my education seriously. I just wanted to be here for our dear friend."

She just rolled her eyes before turning back to Danny. "So, we've got like nine hours. what do you want to do?"

"You aren't going to ask how I feel about maybe dying or something?"

"Why, do you want to talk about that?"

"Not really, no," Danny replied, slumping back into his seat.

"Well, there you go!" Nodding to Tucker, the two lifted Danny up and onto his feet by the shoulders. "Let's just enjoy today."

They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the town, trying to take in the last few moments of summer freedom. If his friends thought he seemed preoccupied, they didn't mention it again. For Danny's part, he mostly just tried to keep his mind in the moment, and off the impending surgery; Phantom was a great help on that point, berating him whenever he began to dwell too much.

But all too soon, it was time.

* * *

Author's Note:

 _Hello again! Sorry for the delay._ _The chapter as you can see is really only connective tissue between the reveal of_ last _chapter and the grand finale that is the next chapter; h_ _opefully, you did not find this too boring._ _But to be perfectly honest, I think I may hate it. Writing really ought to come from a place of love, but sometimes disdain can be a very powerful motivator as well. The strictly connective nature made for a much more challenging writing process than I had expected. And this is to say nothing of the editing process, stitching together content from three of the four or so drafts..._

 _Ah, well. Enough of that. On a positive note, the mentioned finale should be up quite shortly since that has been comparatively straightforward to write so far. And I think you will enjoy that very much, and the planned epilogue._

 _One last note. I would like to officially announce that_ Disconnected _will be getting a sequel, which I actually began writing in these past weeks. Be on the lookout for_ Amity Park After Dark, _coming to FanFictionDotNet on 11 May 2017._

25/04/2017, edited to fix a continuity error.


	28. Chapter 22

"It's going to get harder before it gets easier," she began.

Danny groaned and kicked against the floor, sending the lab's computer chair spinning. "Gee, thanks, Jazz. I can always count on you to make me feel better."

Jazz leaned forward and planted a hand on the armrest, stopping its motion so that Danny faced her at eye level. "You didn't let me finish, little brother," she chided. "It may get harder before it gets easier, but it _will_ get better. You don't need to worry, our parents know what they're doing. They won't let anything happen to you."

Maddie walked briskly past them, adding in as she went, "Of course we won't, Danny. You're going to be just fine!"

"It's not exactly me I'm worried about here."

"What do you mean, Danny? Who else is there?" Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There's two of us going under the knife, remember?" He turned his attention to his mother, who was searching through a box on the other side of a lab bench. "Mom, please, be honest. Is Phantom going to be OK?"

Maddie paused in her bustling for a moment, arms dropping to her sides, before approaching him. She stooped down, examining his face, before reaching out to him; Danny suppressed a flinch at the black gloves reaching out at him from under the surgical smock, but the hand simply moved to brush the hair off his forehead.

"Sweetie, there's always some small risk that things might not go right—"

"That's not what I asked."

"...when your brain heals from the damage that's been done, there... The probable outcome is that Phantom's consciousness will simply fold back into your own. He'll cease to exist, independently of you anyways, and you will return to normal function."

"How probable."

A pregnant pause. "...ninety-five percent. Those are the odds that the brain will heal 'properly'. If the damage to the connecting nerves has been severe enough, then he will 'survive', I suppose."

That was more or less what Danny had been afraid of. "Why didn't you just _tell him_ that? Instead of stringing him along with false hope?"

Jack appeared over Maddie's shoulder, and they both floundered at Danny's accusation. The man reached over and squeezed his shoulder tightly. "...Danny-boy, we couldn't lose you."

"I—" Danny's reply was cut off by Phantom.

 _"Cut them some slack, champ. They were just worried about you."_ The ghost's usual upbeat tone was conspicuously absent.

Danny frowned at the subtle implication. 'They should be worried about you, too. They obviously weren't thinking.'

 _"Yeah, sure. I guess not."_

'Well... We'll talk to them about this. Afterwards. We're both going to pull through this, OK? I'm not going to let you go anywhere.'

 _"...let's just get this over with."_

* * *

They had a while to wait; it was a further 30 minutes before his parents had moved on to the _actual_ preparations from the pre-preparations. In that time, Phantom hadn't talked at all, which even given the circumstances was enough to make Danny uneasy.

It was only when he found himself half-seated, lying back on an inclined operating table, that Phantom finally prodded him.

 _"...Danny?"_

'...Yeah?'

 _"I wouldn't change a thing, you know."_

The teen was silent for a moment. The ghost could almost feel his human gathering up his wits to form a reply, a desperate plea. 'I just want there to be another way. How is _this_ the only solution?'

 _"Heh. Well, the only other option gives you a 100% chance of death, so you know. This way we've both got a chance."_

'It's not much of a chance...'

 _"Yeah, but like I've been telling you; try to focus on the positives, OK champ? Just, do some good out there. If... Just in case this is the last time we talk to each other, will you try to do that for me?"_

Danny faintly heard his mother asking him a question; he just nodded in response. She gave him a weak smile and fitted a breathing mask over his mouth and nose.

 _"You will try, won't you?"_

'I don't know how I'm going to _do_ that, without you.'

 _"Hey, now. I'll never really be gone, you know. I've already spent 14 years as your silent conscience. I'd like to think I've left a mark, even if I'm not around to talk your ear off."_

'It's going to be different this time.'

 _"...Yeah. It will be. But I know you better than most people. You'll be all right, champ."_ They both knew the spirit was trying harder to convince himself than Danny, but the other teen said nothing. _"I'm... I'm sure of it."_

A valve was twisted open, and Danny's vision started to blur. He could vaguely tell that he was being asked to count backward from 100.

"One hundred,"

 _"Please... Tell me you'll be all right."_

"Ninety-nine,"

"Ninety-eight..."

"Ninety-seven..."

 _"Danny?"_

The digits were coming slower now. The thought that followed was also slurred, in a fashion. '...I'll be fine.'

Phantom decided he could be happy with that answer. He settled himself back, and waited.

"Ninety... Six..."

"Ninety... Five..."

"..."

"..."

* * *

The smell of wood smoke entered Danny's nose. The air was thick with it, but it couldn't quite block out the smells of algae and recently fallen leaves.

He realized he had no idea where he was, and electric green eyes cracked open. The clouds were on fire overhead, the deep oranges of the early twilight highlighting the puffy deep blue and the darkening teal sky behind them. Shifting to sit up, Danny heard clattering beneath him; fingers pressed against small, cold stones.

It was the lake, in Wyoming. He had camped here once, with his family. With Fenton. With retrospect, it was clear enough that by then he had already been largely relegated to a passive role in his life, supporting his other half with kind suggestions and assistance as needed. The Danny Fenton that presented himself to the world around them quickly fell into the habit of explaining away or ignoring entirely anything it registered about its other half, but on a night like this all those years ago, the silent one had decided he didn't mind so much. He would always be there for them, prodding them in the right direction, and any disagreements the two had just seemed so trivial in the grand scheme of their life.

Now it was Fenton who was here for him.

"Oh, Phantom, you're up!"

He turned and grinned when he saw his human half, sitting cross-legged by a merrily crackling fire on the shore. Fenton was smiling broadly. From the way he was sitting, he must have been watching the sun setting behind the hills across the lake. "I was hoping you would get to see this. It's been a nice dream."

"Like I'd miss it, champ. Is your subconscious finally giving you a break? Stop the presses!"

"I think this one is all you, actually." Danny looked the ghost up and down once before adding with a hum, "so _that's_ what you look like."

"Yep. Me in the flesh."

"...I think you looked better with the sheet."

They laughed for a moment, before falling back to a comfortable silence. The water lapped at the rocky beach, compelled onward by an unfelt breeze. Crickets and other insects chirped, crackled, trilled, and chattered back and forth, occasionally joined by the haunting call of loons in the distance.

Being the silent observer had its perks, really. One of them was nights like this, where he could just stare out and enjoy nature to its fullest, without worrying about holding up half of a conversation. It seemed like Fenton was in a similar state of mind right now. The teen caught Phantom's gaze and they exchanged a grin.

This dream had the potential to be the last thing he ever experienced, but the ghost wasn't worried. In fact, on a night like this? He decided he didn't mind so much.

In the end, this was right.

 **End of Part II**

* * *

Author's Note:

 _Even though a stubborn cold resulted in this chapter wildly overshooting its May Day target date for release, thus delaying the epilogue_ _(_ _s_ _o much for my Gantt charts...)_ _,_ Amity Park After Dark _**is**_ _still going up tomorrow_ _; after all, I could never leave you there, with so many questions unanswered, and so many plot lines unresolved. Although,_ _I am not entirely sure when th_ _e_ _epilogue will be released. Most likely around 20 May. Approximately. Very approximately. Anyway,_

 _Thank you all very much for reading. Special thanks are in order to unofficial science adviser MsFrizzle whose readership always made me strive for greater accuracy; GhostAnn_ _and Kimera20_ _who ha_ _ve_ _been riding this crazy train since the start; Invader Johnny_ _and_ _BuzzyBumbleBee13_ _for honest_ _y_ _when I needed it; TheFullCatastrophe for_ _giving_ _excellent_ _feedback on a draft I sent them_ _(_ _in a panic_ _(_ _in the middle of the work_ _ing_ _day_ _))_ _; and of course_ _fantastic_ _people_ _like Salinedreamsxena, Pseudinymous, The TRIGGERED Lemur, Blue11msu, Pterodactyl_ _(loving Dorian Gray, by the way)_ _,_ _Mychron,_ _fleurelise21, PoochKat, Animallover... I could go on. You are what kept me going._

 _I have been Workparty. I hope we shall meet again._


End file.
